Muileach
by starbuckx
Summary: Harry returns from war only to find that everything he left behind is in pieces ...including Ginny's heart?
1. Prologue

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 1/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_Yet if Hope has flown away  
In a night, or in a day,  
In a vision, or in none,  
Is it therefore the less gone?  
All that we see or seem  
Is but a dream within a dream_

_ Edgar Allan Poe_

The last rays of sunlight fell over the lake, illuminating the surface with an almost orange glow, the last remains of the day that was slowly coming to an end. The _worst _day of his life. A pair of green eyes focused on the sky, now turning gray to match Harry's mood. Soon, the little bit of sunlight that was left would be gone, and even the beautiful picture of the sunset couldn't make him feel better about what he was about to do.

The chilly autumn wind made him shiver and wrap his cloak more tightly against his body, but the cold did not disappear. It seemed like his insides were frozen, almost as if someone had thrown a freezing spell at him. But he was doing this to himself.

He opened his mouth, feeling the need to cry out, but he closed it before any sound could come out of it. What was the point in crying out, when he knew this had to be done?

The silence hung heavy around him, and for the first time in two years he wished for the silence around him to be broken, for someone to reach out and make him feel.

Nothing happened. The wind continued to blow, making him shiver, but he did not move, nor did he try to cover himself again. This time, he opened himself to being cold.

The tears began to fall slowly, one by one, brought on by the memories, good and bad ones. _Playing Quidditch. Detention in the Forbidden Forest with Ron. A Saturday in the library with Hermione. Saving Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. Finding Sirius again_. The best moments of his life has been spent in Hogwarts and going off to take part in the on-going war seemed almost a bad dream.

But it wasn't. He had always known there would come the time when he have to leave. Not because he was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, not to get revenge and not because he wanted to be the hero, but because he could no longer bear another second hiding at Hogwarts, going to classes, pretending that everything was all right while a war was going on. A war he should be taking part in.

Maybe there wasn't anything he could do to help. Maybe he wasn't that big on the grand scheme of things. He probably wasn't. His scar pains would probably only hinder him in battle, not help him. But he could feel them getting worse by the day, and the knowledge that Voldemort was getting closer to everything and everyone he loved was all he needed to make up his mind.

The silence was getting unbearable, and for a whole second he considered going back inside, to his friends, to Ginny. But he erased that thought from his mind quickly. Staying here at Hogwarts would only end up hurting them. He had to smile at his own conclusion. There was nothing he could do about Ron and Hermione. They were old enough to leave if they wanted to, but Ginny ...at least he could keep her safe for a few more months. And maybe, a few months would be all he needed to get her out of his mind, his skin, his heart.

He sank to the floor and rested his head against a tree. Somehow he doubted that he could ever get Ginny out of his heart. She had taken up residence, filling the emptiness inside him with light, and hope and love. The tears froze in his cheeks and he quickly wiped them off and got on his feet. The last thing he wanted was for her to find him like this.

Love wasn't one of his strong points, that he could admit. He had very little experience with it, not only in the romantic sense, but in the family sense as well. The first time he had taken a look at the Weasley family he had been reminded of all he had been missing, and it had made him jealous.

His parents had loved him, he was sure of that. But when he closed his eyes he could not make out his mother's face, and he could not remember the loving embrace of his father, so the knowledge of their love seemed somehow incomplete.

That led him to the Dursleys, who hadn't exactly been a loving family. The years spent with them had been filled with many things: loneliness, bitterness, despair, but never love. Not even hope.

That, had been provided by Ron and Hermione, the first to ever make him feel loved. It had always been easy with them, maybe because they had formed a bond from the beginning, or maybe because they had survived so many dangers together. Words had never been necessary with them. They were glances, unspoken messages, intuition. In the end, they just knew.

With Sirius things had been completely different. You never knew where you stood with Sirius, he had decided last year after one of their fights. One moment he was happy, a second later he was being overprotective, and then minutes later, he was back to normal again. Harry had often joked that Sirius and him could never have a civil conversation if Remus wasn't present, and that was usually true. Harry's old teacher often seemed to be the only one who could truly reach Sirius, and Harry appreciated that. They were the only links he had to his parents, and Harry knew without a doubt that both would give their lives to protect him. He had, in turn, often showed that he would be willing to make the same sacrifice for both of them, and he was sure they were aware of that.

Which left him with Ginny.

"It's amazing how complicated things get once you get mixed up with a girl¨,"Sirius had told him once with a boyish twinkle in his eyes, and now more than ever Harry understood exactly what Sirius meant. Ginny was ...words failed him when describing Ginny. Words often failed him when he was around her, but here was no mistaking his feelings. He had danced around her long enough, pretending not to know while being perfectly aware that the feeling would not go away with time. And when he had finally admitted to her what they had both known for a while, he had discovered how truly magical the world could be when someone loved you as much as she loved him.

And because he knew how she felt, he had to do this. She would never do it herself. She would never leave him.

He shut his eyes tightly to block out the mental image of her face. He couldn't think of her. Not now. If he did, he would never be able to go through with it. And he had to. Facing Voldemort was his duty, not hers and he would not allow her to sacrifice herself for him.

"_You'll hurt her", _a voice was telling him, an ethereal voice that seemed to come out from the lake. A gentle whisper brought to him by the wind.

He knew it would hurt her. But in the end, it might also save her, and for that he was willing to risk it.

"_You'll hurt her," _the voice said again, and he did his best to block it out. She should have never got close to him. He shouldn't have allowed it. But she had, and now she was suffering. He could take her suffering for him, but not dying for him. Not that.

He turned around sharply at the sound of her voice calling for him, and he stared at her, drinking in her appearance, memorizing every curve, every line, every shadow and saving them for later. For when he was alone and tired, and about to give up. Because he knew that in that moment, all he would have to do would be close his eyes, and she would be there with him. And with his eyes closed he would remember her beautiful brown eyes, the play of the light on her face, the shade of her flushed cheeks. And she would be his, and only his.

She was smiling at him when he finally focused on her face, her head tilted to the right and she stepped into his arms easily and quickly. He closed his eyes and held her tight, once more marveling at how perfectly they fit together, as if they were made for each other. Her small arms surrounded his neck, and he circled her waist and hugged her even more tightly, enjoying the feel of her body against him.

"I love you," he told her, and his voice quavered as he said the words.

She looked into his eyes, concern evident on her face. "What's wrong Harry?" she asked. He could see her struggling to come up with a reason for his strange behavior but he didn't mind. He just wanted to have her in his arms one more time, so he held her close and memorized the feel of her arms and the wonderful way in which she rested her head against his shoulder.

Then, he let go of her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes filled with pain, and this time her voice shook almost as much as his.

"I'm leaving," he answered, his eyes focused on the floor, unable to look at her in the face. "And I have to go alone."

She gasped and stared at him for what seemed like and eternity. Then her mouth opened, but no words came out of it. She took a deep breath to regain her voice and asked him, "The war? Is that it?" her voice filled with so much pain that he almost took it back. But he couldn't. He had to go. For her.

"I have to," he told her hollowly, as he stared into the lake once again, still unable to meet her eyes.

He heard a muffled cry and seconds later she was in his arms again, holding him tight, whispering terms of endearment, begging him not to go.

"Don't hug me," he whispered brokenly. "It only makes me want to never let go."

"Then don't go," - she pleaded with him, holding him tight and placing soft kisses on his face.

He hugged her tightly once more, then with a tremendous effort, pushed her aside. He looked at her face for the first time since he delivered his words and his eyes seemed to linger on her face for a very long time. She could see the pain plainly written on his face, but it didn't make it right. He was making a decision, and he was doing it for her. And damn it, there was nothing she could do about it. Tears trickled down her cheeks, tracing the swirls of her freckles before freezing on the tip of her nose, but she never even bothered to wipe them away.

She looked into his eyes just before he turned around, and the "I love you" she was planning to say wouldn't come out. She stood still and silent while he walked away from her, and the moment he vanished from he sight her control seemed to abandon her and she collapsed onto the ground. Her shoulders heaved and she gasped while the tears continued to fall without control.

"I hate you, Harry Potter" she whispered bitterly. "I hate you for thinking that I'll wait for you. I hate you for thinking that I'll always love you."

"And ..." she murmured softly to herself. "I hate you for being right."

The chilly autumn wind cut into her face and she hugged her knees, trying to block out the cold from the wind that sliced into her neck, making her feel frozen inside as she stared for what seemed a very long time at the path were Harry had disappeared, feeling more alone and hollow than ever.

**_To be continued ..._**

****

_A/N: Not only has this taken way longer than anything I've ever written, it has also been revised several times, planned more carefully than I've ever planned anything, and it's a much more sirius fic than anything I've attempted before, not to mention longer, so I hope you all enjoy. The title needs some explaining, I guess. **Muileach **means beloved in gaelic. I think it fits the story. This is for my cyber-sisters, as always, and for Paula and Anne, for all the help.  
_


	2. A trail of Broken Dreams

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 2/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_When my soul wings her flight  
To the regions of night,  
And my corse shall recline on its bier;  
As ye pass by the tomb,  
Where my ashes consume,  
Oh! moisten their dust with a Tear._

_ Lord Byron_

A pair of eyes focused on the silhouette of The Burrow, scanning the grounds for a familiar red-head and when they did not find her, went back to staring at the place that brought so many memories. The sound of footsteps broke the silence that seemed to have engulfed the house as the owner of said eyes started walking the long, narrow and unkempt path that led to a place that had once been filled with laughter, but now seemed strangely devoid of it, as if cold and silence had taken up residence, and the occupants of the house were prisoners of their nightmares, unable to escape or change their faith.

A loud bang from inside the house made the man stop in his tracks, and seconds later the shadow of a young woman could be seen through the window, the worry lines on her face barely visible to the man standing outside. He took a couple of hesitant steps, eager to get close to her, but the picture she presented as he came closer was enough to make him stop once again, as he continued to stare at her.

Her red hair looked as vibrant as ever, and the light coming through the window made it look even brighter, illuminating her face. But her hair was the only part of her that seemed alive. Her face, usually bright and cheery, looked unusually pale, and devoid of happiness. She wasn't smiling either, and he had never known her to wear such a gloomy expression, especially not so early in the morning. She had always been a morning person.

But, if anything, her eyes told the story of the suffering she had endured the past two years. Their brown depths had always been filled with mischief, and peace, even in the darkest moments, but now the sparkle was gone from her eyes, from her face, and the world seemed such a dreary and empty place without that sparkle.

A loud sigh escaped the man's lips, but the girl standing in the middle of the kitchen barely moved, as she concentrated on fixing what looked to be a very old clock. He seemed to make up his mind, for he walked to the front door and raised his hand to knock but the sound was muffled by another very loud bang and a very loud curse, muttered by a very familiar voice.

He raised his hand again, but the door was thrown open before he could knock, and his eyes drank in her appearance, trying to take it all in.

"Harry," she gasped as her eyes focused on him, and her brain sent the correct signals to her mouth. It was truly him, at last. She studied his face, noticing the subtle changes, the wisdom in his green eyes that could have only come from knowing pain first-hand and dealing with it, the way the corner of his mouth turned up in one of those smiles that made her knees buckle and her heart beat faster.

And then, there was his hair, which fell almost to his shoulders, messy as always. The scar was still there, but almost everything else about him had changed. He looked tanned and healthy, relaxed, if not happy and his apparent happiness brought a surge of bitterness that finally made her look away as she struggled for words.

"Come in," she finally managed, and she stepped away so he could enter, putting enough space between herself and the door that if he were to reach for her, she would notice it. Her eyes focused on the garden as he stepped inside, and if she tried hard enough she could make out the laughing, beloved face of the one she missed the most.

"Ginny," he called, as she had been staring out the door for quite some time, and if she had been the same girl she was two years ago, she would have blushed. As it was, she only nodded before closing the door and passing Harry on the way to the kitchen.

"I am sorry for being such a bad hostess." She started talking, because it had always been easier for her to deal with Harry when she had a lot on her mind and he didn't have her complete attention. "But…" she continued, as she started on the breakfast that should have been done ten minutes ago, "I have to finish breakfast before Mum wakes up, and you've come to stay here more times than I can count, so I doubt you'll mind sitting in the kitchen for a while."

Turning around to see his reaction was a mistake, Ginny realized as he offered her a bright smile and sat down on the nearest chair. She took a deep breath and thought back to the many days she had sat by the window, waiting for him to come back, and the endless nights she had spent dreaming about his return, but could not find it within herself to feel anything other than relief and an incredible sense of peace. Her anger seemed to have melted as soon as she saw him, and as she muttered a few spells to make things go faster, she discovered that her anger had only been a clever disguise for her pain and her fear. Fear for him. She had lost enough, already, and she wasn't sure she could have dealt with losing him.

"How is your mum doing?" Harry's voice dragged her away from her thoughts and into the real world she so desperately wanted to escape. She tilted her head, and looked at him from the corner of her eye, the concern written plainly on his face and for the first time in a more than a year felt like throwing her hands around someone's shoulders and letting it all go. But she didn't. If she had learned one thing the past two years, was that tears didn't solve anything. Tears just made everyone look at you as if you were weak, and she was not willing to be weak ever again.

"All right, I guess. As good as ... well, after what happened, what can you expect?"

He was suddenly standing beside her, and she wasn't even sure how he had managed to get so close, but close he was, because she could feel his breath against her cheek as he asked, "And, how are you doing?"

Her eyes focused on the old clock that she had been working on earlier, and then filled with tears. The memory of all she had lost hit her again, almost like a physical blow, and as she shut her eyes to keep the tears from spilling she remembered the way that his absence had surrounded her with a feeling of loss in every aspect of her life

"_But I don't want it to disappear! I don't want it to" she had been telling Ron one evening, two days after the funeral. "I don't ever want it to be gone. Why do the names of the dead have to disappear from the stupid clocks anyway? Shouldn't it say something like: **At peace**, or some other crap like that? Anything ...as long as it doesn't disappear." She had slumped against the wall muttering to herself, "I just don't want it to disappear."_

_Ron had taken her into his arms, holding her tightly. "I don't want it to either," he had told her, his voice filled with pain. "But life goes on Ginny, it has to go on." He had taken a deep breath, and looked into her eyes, "I don't think he would have liked you to stop smiling because he was gone. He would have never wanted you to stop smiling"_

"_But I can't smile anymore!" she had cried out, tears rolling across her cheeks without control. "I can't even get up in the morning and look at the bloody clock without being reminded that my brother is dead!"_

"_Gin," Ron had tried to calm her down, but she had been way too taken over with grief to allow it. "You know what I'm going to do?" she had cried in desperation, "I'm going to get my wand, and I'm going to get his name in there again. And I won't ever let it fade away again. So that every morning, when I look at that clock, I won't have to be reminded of that fact that I won't ever get my eyebrows blown off by one of his stupid presents again. Or that he won't ever make my ears grow, or my hairs turn green again. And he won't be gone."_

"_He is already gone Ginny," George had told her, appearing behind Ron. "And no matter how much we hate it, or how much we miss him, we have to go on living; we have to go on laughing. If not for ourselves, for him. Because you know that's what he would have wanted."_

"I won't ever be able to laugh again," she had cried as George held her close, the tears never stopping. "Not without Fred."

And it had taken her a long time, way too long, to be able to even smile again. Fred had taken many things with him, and her innocence and desire to dream were some of those. She hadn't felt truly happy since that afternoon, almost three years ago, just before Harry had announced he was going to take part in the war.

Harry's warm hands rested in her shoulders, and she stepped away quickly before he had a chance to comfort her. The pain caused by Harry's departure had been pushed aside after Fred's death, and now it returned, stronger than ever. She took a few steps back, putting as much distance between them as she could.

She glanced once again at the clock, and smiled sadly before answering, "I miss him, everyday. But I go on, we all go on. We have to."

He took another step towards her, clearly ready to take her into his arms, but she was not the girl he had left sobbing near the lake almost three years ago. She was a woman now, a strong woman, and she did not need him to push away her fears or to wipe away her tears. She had, long ago, made a desicion to never cry again, and by Fred, she was going to uphold it.

"Ginny? Is that you?" Her mother's voice, coming from upstairs saved her from having to reject Harry's embrace, and she threw him a warning look as she crossed the kitchen to stand at the foot of the stairs. "Yes, it's me, Mum," she answered, wearing now a mask of calmness that would have fooled even Harry, if he hadn't seen her seconds ago. "I'm just fixing breakfast."

"Oh, that's all right then, dear." Mrs. Weasley answered, clearly disappointed. "I thought ..for a moment I could have sworn I heard Harry, but it must have been my imagination."

Ginny turned to look at him once again, her gaze piercing into his soul, her expression begging him not to ask too many questions, before saying, "You're not imagining things Mum, no matter what the doctor says. He's right here with me. And he didn't come to see me, so come down."

"Harry?" a voice said, and moments later Mrs Weasley stood in the foot of the stairs, looking happier than Ginny had seen her in a very long time. "Is it really you, my boy?" she asked, as if she feared her mind was playing tricks on her, and she stood rooted to her spot, too afraid that if she moved, Harry would disappear.

Ginny's eyes begged Harry to make the first move, to give her mother this moment of happiness, but she didn't even have to beg. The brightest smile she had seen so far today appeared in Harry's face, and he crossed the space to where Mrs. Weasley was standing in a heartbeat before taking her in his arms for a hug that seemed to contain all the love she had given him when he was a child.

"Let's sit down so you can tell me how you are doing," Mrs. Weasley said minutes later, and she and Harry had occupied their familiar spots at the Weasley's kitchen table, leaving Ginny with an empty feeling as she looked at Fred's spot. "Care to join us, dear?" her mother asked, but Ginny had managed a slight smile before going back to breakfast. "No, you and Harry catch up, Mum, I'll get you both some breakfast," she had said, unable to stare at the table for another second.

The sound of their joined voices was a distraction from unwelcome thoughts, as she focused her attention on things she could be sure about, like bread and ham. She stared at her own hands as she went through her breakfast routine and she had to fight a real smile that threatened to appear as she thought about how hard it had all seemed to her on the first day she had stayed home to take care of her mother. So much had changed since then.

The pot she was holding almost fell down to the floor, as she heard her mother ask Harry about Ron, and she held her breath as a silence fell upon the room. But very soon the silence was broken by Harry's laugh and she turned around to face them, wearing an expression she was sure matched her mother's in bewilderment.

"Ron and Hermione are going to kill me for telling you this, but I honestly don't know how they expected me to keep quiet." He glanced at both Mrs Weasley and Ginny's faces and laughed again before continuing, "I think, well, I think you are going to have another person in this house sooner than you think."

Ginny's expression must have been one of utter shock, because Harry burst out laughing again as he stared at her. "Not like that," he managed to get out before lauging again. "I am just saying that Hermione is going to be part of this family sooner than you might have expected."

"Really?" Mrs. Weasley screamed happily, "That's wonderful news Harry! How do you know? Did Ron tell you anything?" A thousand questions seemed to pour out of her mother's mouth, and Ginny marveled at how alive she looked. Her whole expression had changed, a serene smile now grazing her lips and she greeted Harry's words with an enthusiasm Ginny hadn't seen in a while.

"Ginny, did you hear that?" she asked, smiling at Ginny's nod before turning back to Harry and Ginny could feel the cold blade of anger, an anger that threatened to consume her. Anxiously, she turned her back on them, focusing on the garden, trying to concentrate on the good things in life as hard as she could, but nothing came to her. Instead of good memories, the worst moments of her life passed her by, Fred's cold body lying on the ground. Harry's goodbye. Her decision to stay and take care of her mother.

Maybe, that's what's left for me in life, anger and pain, she reflected as her eyes rested on the clock once again. She had wanted to throw it out so many times, and yet had never been able to. So every morning, she stood in front of it with her wand, trying to magically insert Fred's name again.

She always failed.

Her eyes closed, and she tried to focus on Ron and Hermione, their laughing faces, their smiles. The happiness they'd found in each other. She searched deep inside her, trying to reach that part of her heart that still believed in fairy-tale endings, but there wasn't anything there. No dreams, no hope. No magic.

But for Ron and Hermione, perhaps, there was still some magic left. For the first time since Fred's death, Ginny closed her eyes and prayed, prayed that it would work out between them. Ron deserved some happiness, and the only one who could make him happy was Hermione. It was ...meant to be.

Funny, she had once thought she and Harry were meant to be. Maybe they still were, but she didn't believe it anymore. Pain, bitterness and anger had taken over her heart, and she had vowed to never let anyone get close enough to hurt her again. Life would go on, and she would continue to live it, with no hope that something better might be awaiting.

The silence was like a blanket to her, and she took solace in it, drawing it besides her as the sunlight fell on her face, making her freckles stand out. She smiled slightly and turned around, ready to face her mother and Harry once again, but her mother was already gone, and standing in the middle of the kitchen was the only man she had ever loved, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

"That's the first real smile I've seen from you today," he commented as he closed the distance between them, coming to stand right beside Ginny, both facing the window.

She stared at the floor, trying to block out the tenderness in his voice, as she answered back, "Well, I had a rough morning."

"You've had a rough time, I know that Ginny," he told her, his green eyes alight with something more than concern, something deeper than friendship "But, the war is over. It's time to heal the wounds."

"Some wounds don't heal Harry," she answered him as she stared at his face and thought back to that awful afternoon when he had declared he loved her too much to stay. "And we can't spend the rest of our lives waiting for them to heal."

"Yes, so we move on," he said, as he grasped her hand, and she smiled sadly at the feeling of security his touch brought to her. The only way of being safe, was to guard her heart, and Harry was the most dangerous enemy in that regard.

"We continue to live," she told him, removing her hand from his grasp. "That doesn't mean we move on."

"Ginny, I spent three years away from here, and not a single day passed by when I didn't hope I would wake up to find that everything had been a bad dream." He stared at her, trying to give her a comforting smile, "But I'm here now."

She looked away from him, and once again her gaze rested on the clock. "I spent three years hoping I could be there with all of you, fighting, doing something, instead of just hiding here," she told him, her voice hollow and broken. "It's not that I wanted Mum to be alone, but I wanted to help out. After everything that happened, after her illness, I just couldn't go."

"Gin," he started, but she didn't let him continue. "I went as far as the station once, had everything ready. But I couldn't go through with it. I told myself, just a few months, until Mum gets better. And then Fred ...you know. And things were never the same"

She finally focused on him, her expression a mixture of pain and regret. "I've always felt bad about everything you all had to go through. But, I just couldn't leave"

"Ginny, no one asked you to," Harry told her, taking her hands and placing a soft kiss over them. "No one expected you to. Everyone understood. And we were all so very proud of you, for doing what needed to be done."

She took a deep breath and smiled sadly at him, "Thanks, I think ...I needed to hear that."

"I'm glad I was here to say it you," he smiled and stared at her again. She could sense the shift in the mood, and she looked away, unprepared for what was to come. She had never been very good at resisting Harry's charms, and she wasn't sure she could deal with him now.

"Ginny," he whispered softly and he waited until she faced him before continuing. "I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."

"There was once a dream that was you and me," she whispered softly, so softly he had to strain to hear what she was saying. "That dream is gone." She looked into his eyes, her brown ones filled with sadness. "I don't believe in dreams anymore, Harry."

Her eyes went back to the garden, where she had spent some of her happiest moments, with Harry, with her brothers. A long time ago, when the war was only a distant thought. When there were still things to dream about.

"I don't ...People just don't go on with their lives. They struggle to live each day, because it's what is expected of them. They let go of their dreams and desires, and focus on the moment." She stared at him one last time, and his pained expression almost took her breath away. She closed her eyes to block the tears, but unnoticed, a single one managed to fall, tracing the swirl of her freckles until Harry wiped it away with a trembling hand.

"I choose the moment, Harry," she told him as she stepped away from him. "I don't believe in dreams anymore. I'm not sure I will ever believe again."

_**To be continued ...**_

_A/N: This was intense, emotionally draining, and very hard to write. I really didn't want to kill him, but I had to. You'll find out why later. A thousand and one thanks to Carrie, for helping me plot this one, and encouraging me to do what I had to do, to Anne, for catching the mistakes no one else catches, and to Paula, for giving me the push I needed to go on when I wasn't sure this was going in the right direction. And to my cyber-sisters, as always, especially to Margot and Ali. You might say my last note was sappy, but can I say it worked? LOL._


	3. Breakfast at Harry's

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 3/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_  
I shall be telling this with a sigh  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --  
I took the one less traveled by,  
And that has made all the difference_

_Robert Lee Frost_

The curtains blew, and a lonely ray of sunlight filtered through them, coming to rest on Harry's face. The early morning wind made him shiver and he reached for the covers, snuggling deeply into them, trying to block out the cold. Outside, Mother Nature was giving all the signs that it was morning, but inside, the lone occupant of the flat refused to acknowledge it.

He would have succeeded too, if it were not for the birds. For the people fighting against Voldemort, there was never a secure place to sleep, and morning was never welcomed. The night brought nightmares, yes, but it also brought a chance to think about loved ones. Morning only brought more battles, more pain.

For almost three years Harry had been jolted awake by screams of terror, cries of pain and tears of sorrow. Never, had something so small and insignificant like a bird managed to awaken him. Today, the first day of the rest of his life, he'd allowed a bird to do so.

Green eyes surveyed the flat and came to rest on the window, and Harry had to fight back a smile as he came face to face with two signs that life was going back to normal. His eyes moved quickly, and he stared at the vacant spot beside him, looking for another coat, expecting to see Ron there, and once again, he was surprised at how normal everything seemed. If he closed his eyes for another second, he could almost pretend he was back at Hogwarts, and that if he didn't hurry, he would miss breakfast.

But as his mind registered the many losses, he realized things would never go back to what they had been before. There would be no more snowball fights with the twins, no more classes with Lupin, no more sneaking away with Ginny. That part of his life was gone forever.

His life, on the other hand, his life …was just beginning. As Hermione had told him less than two weeks ago, it was time to celebrate the life of those who had made a sacrifice, by enjoying the freedom they helped achieve. It was time for families to be together, for friends to cherish each other, for lovers to reunite.

The covers fell to the floor with a _thud_, as he headed to the bathroom, all the while thinking carefully about Ginny's words. Another Harry, the one before the war, would have stood back, giving Ginny the time and space she needed to work things out by herself. This Harry knew how precious life was, and he didn't intend to waste another second of it.

But Ginny had changed too, he admitted to himself, and he needed some time to get to know her anew, to work out exactly what he should do to get her back. The Ginny he knew was mischievous and funny, she smiled often and never let life bring her down. This Ginny …he couldn't figure out. Fred's death had been a big blow for everyone, but it seemed to have struck Ginny the hardest. Her eyes had lost that mischievous glint, and that lovely smile didn't grace her lips nearly as much as it used to. She seemed to have …given up. And he wasn't about to let her.

He stared at the mirror and tried to look confident, but he and the mirror had never been on very good terms, so he had to settle for not looking defeated. The task at hand was not easy, but with a good plan and some careful execution, he could pull it off, he was sure.

_And that_, the annoying little voice inside of him said_, is another sign that you've gone completely crazy. You are talking in Quidditch terms again._

Quidditch. If there was one thing he had missed almost as much as Ginny, it was playing Quidditch. There had been long conversations with Ron about it, and even longer strategy sessions, and now that he was back, he couldn't wait to get on a broom again.

But even Quidditch brought back sad memories, as he recalled Fred's passion for the game, and his smile of pure joy when they had won the cup in third year. He loved all the Weasleys, for they had filled him with love when he hadn't even known the meaning of the word, but a fateful night almost two years ago had made his bond with Fred stronger than he had ever anticipated it being.

He was missed. He would forever be missed. But Harry had been there in his final moments, and he was absolutely sure he wouldn't have wanted life to stop on his account. He wouldn't have wanted Ginny to put up walls, and in this situation, he would have wanted Harry to do his best to bring them down.

And by God, he was going to do just that. He wasn't sure how, but he was going to.

He stared at his reflection again, pleased with the determined look on his face, before heading for the kitchen. Another joy of normal life, being able to eat what you wanted, when you wanted it.

His eyes came to rest on the pile of food Mrs Weasley had sent and his stomach grumbled loudly. For all his claims to the contrary, he was glad Mrs. Weasley had sent him all this food, for his culinary skills had not improved a bit in the last three years. In fact, if Ron was to be believed, they had become worse.

"Let's see," he grinned as he examined the contents of the food tray on top. And to think Mrs Weasley had guessed. A warm smile crossed his lips as he stared at the sausages with delight. This day was turning out to be a good one, after all.

Destiny, however, had no intention of being nice, or so it seemed, for as soon as Harry had settled down to eat, there was a loud knock on the door. "Great, just great," Harry mumbled before getting up, but the lack of familiarity with his surroundings was evident as his foot came in contact with the leg of the table, bringing it down with him, the food all but ruined.

"Wonderful Quidditch reflexes you have Harry," he complained bitterly as he stared at the mess. "Just wonderful." The knocking became even louder, and he had to fight back a growl as he headed to the door, throwing it open in one swift movement, only to stand in front of his best friend, a silly smile grazing his lips.

"Rough morning?" he asked with a grin as he took a couple of steps into the flat and surveyed the mess. "Are you planning to clean that up, or do you need me to do it?" Ron's eyes were twinkling with mirth.

"Shut up," Harry told him, as he pulled out his wand and quickly took care of the mess. "What are you smiling about anyway?" he asked as he stared at the food once again.

"Ah, life." Ron quipped with a grin. "You do know you can't eat that, right?" he asked, because Harry was staring at the food with longing.

"Yes, I know." Harry certainly looked disappointed about that fact. "But that was my favorite ..." He shook his head and dropped the food in the waste bin. "Oh well, I guess I'll just blame you for my misfortunes. What are you doing here anyway? I thought you and Hermione would be …er...otherwise engaged."

"We were." Ron grinned as he plopped down on the sofa. "But I needed to talk to you, and she said she was looking forward to a long conversation with Ginny." He smiled at Harry's defeated look. "If that's about the food, then I am sure you'll find more of the same in that pile of food Mum sent. She's like that. On the other hand, if that's about Ginny …then I can't help."

Harry stared at him, and shrugged. "Let's not talk about Ginny now. I want to hear your news first."

"My news?" Ron was now grinning from ear to ear. "Well, I just thought you'd like to know that Mum is holding some kind of reunion-celebration thing for Hermione and me tonight at the Burrow. Nothing fancy, just a few friends. Since you are going to be the Best Man, I thought you'd be interested."

Harry's eyes twinkled. "So you asked her? You finally did? But how, if you don't even have the ring!"

"I don't know," Ron looked as confused as Harry felt. "It was just a spur of the moment thing. I was planning to do the romantic scenario, you know, a candlelight dinner, roses, all that stuff women like. But I was just standing there, staring at her, and the war was over, and I had to ask."

"And she said yes? Just like that?" Harry was grinning, "She's even crazier than you are!"

"She is, isn't she?" Ron smiled at Harry. "I don't know what's come over us, to be honest with you. I always knew I wanted to marry her. I always knew it would happen some day, but I certainly hadn't planned this."

"You hadn't?" Harry was doing his best to look confused, but he couldn't keep the smile away from his face. "Then that ring I'm hiding for you was just …er ...what was it again?"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Ron struggled to find the right words. "I had already decided I was going to ask her as soon as things calmed down, but I thought, I don't know …I thought we'd wait a bit before getting married."

"And?" Harry had to ask, because with Ron talking about Hermione there was always a risk of him drifting into a daydream if you didn't ask.

"Well, I don't know …" Ron shrugged, "Things have changed. I want us to get married as soon as possible, and I am sure Hermione feels the same way. We just …I don't know, we don't want to …"

"Waste another minute." Harry finished for him, understanding completely.

"Yes, exactly." The silly smile made its appearance once again, and Harry had to hurry up and ask something before the daydreaming started.

"So, you're here because …?" he asked again, because he couldn't think of a better question.

"To get the ring! Of course …" He stared at Harry, as if Harry should have guessed that. "I know I already proposed, but I have to do it right, and for that I need the ring. So go get it!"

"I'm going, I'm going," Harry grinned at Ron's attempts to look menacing and headed for the bedroom. A few rustling noises were heard, and moments later, Harry appeared, confusion evident in his face.

"Please, don't tell me you lost it," Ron begged, looking ready to do murder.

Harry shook his head and stared at Ron, trying to clear his thoughts. He couldn't have put it here, right? He only kept ...well, he didn't keep things like Ron's ring there, that's for sure.

"Earth to Harry," Ron was now standing in front of him, a panicked look on his face. "Do you have it?"

"Yes, yes …I have it. I just, could have sworn I had put it somewhere else."

Ron grabbed the little box from Harry's hand, and opened it, staring at the ring with a smile before taking a deep breath and heading back to the sofa. "You had me worried there, for a minute," he admitted with a sly grin.

Harry sat down beside Ron, and tried to remember what he had done with the ring as soon as Ron had given it to him. He hadn't put it there, had he? He shook his head, and noticed Ron was giving him a funny look.

"What?" he asked, a little annoyed.

"Well, I asked you something, but I am not sure you were listening to me." Ron's face was suddenly serious, and Harry had the dreadful feeling he knew where this conversation was going.

"Well, what is it?" he asked, wanting to get this conversation over and done with, but Ron remained silent.

"Look, Ron," he sighed as he stared at Ron, "Every awkward conversation we could have had in our lifetimes, we've already had." And it was true. Wars did bring people closer together, and in the past couple of years, the friendship Harry had thought had been very good while at Hogwarts had progressed into something else. The understanding was deeper, more complete. Not merely friends, but almost brothers. "So, just say it. It can't be much worse than some of the conversations we've already had," he finished, with what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Well," Ron started saying, looking a little unsure. "I just wanted to know…er... I was wondering what you made of Ginny?"

"I was wrong, this is worse than any of our previous conversations," Harry joked and Ron grinned. "Why are you asking?"

"I don't know, I just …I think, she just seemed a little weird to me. A little more …" he paused, looking for the right words but Harry didn't let him finish.

"A little more?" He stared at Ron.

"Well, a lot more ..you know…" Ron didn't seem much more eager than Harry to say the words, so Harry decided to spare him.

"Yes, I know. I was hoping ...I thought maybe it was only directed at me, but it seems I was wrong." Harry's eyes rested on his own clock, as he recalled Ginny's words. "I don't know what to do," he confessed with a defeated sigh.

Ron looked as confused as he did, "I was sure you had got better results. She didn't even want to talk to me. Just mentioned a couple of things about Fred," Ron's voice became choked at the mention of his late brother, "But I didn't get much out of her. It seems like no one can get much out of her these days, except maybe George. And Angelina, she's very close to Angelina. I am hoping Hermione can get her to talk."

"I talked to her," Harry admitted, "But I am not sure that's much better. She's not happy with me, or with the world. And since I was the first one to leave her, the first one that chose the war over her, I get all the blame."

Ron looked very sorry. "I thought, well, I am sure she wasn't happy about having to stay with Mum. But after all that happened with Dad, and Fred. I thought we all agreed it was for the best."

"You all agreed, and she probably feels it was never her choice. I think, I think she knows it was for the best.She knows your mum wouldn't have survived the war without her. But she still wishes she could have been out there with us, fighting. You know Ginny," Harry had to smile at this, "For all the evidence to the contrary, she was never the quiet type."

Ron nodded, and a looked the other way, the silence stretching before them until it was almost unbearable for Harry, but he did not talk. Ron still had something to say, he was sure of it.

"This …it might sound selfish, but I will always be glad that you had the courage to do what you did. Because, it prevented her from going to the war right away. And then with Dad, and Fred, and then what happened to Mum… she just had to stay." Ron's eyes were watering, and he closed them quickly to block out the tears. "She's my little sister, and I never wanted her out there fighting. And, maybe she resents me for it, but I'm glad she never had to see a friend die… or take someone's life."

Harry nodded, not entirely ready to pour his heart out to Ron, and said briefly, "I can't help but think I should have done things differently."

"I would have done the same thing, if I'd've been in your place," Ron said, his expression serious, and Harry felt a flood of relief course to him. At least Ron understood. "I respect your decision," he continued, and this time, Harry had to turn away quickly to stop his own tears from falling.

"I just want to know one thing," he stared at Harry, his expression solemn. "Do you still love her?"

"Nothing has changed, at least not for me," he answered with a sad smile. "I still feel the same way I did the last time you asked that question. In fact, and I'll risk being mushy here, I can tell you I love her even more now."

The Ron who would have made a face at those mushy words, or teased Harry with them was gone, the war and Hermione had made him a new man. This Ron only smiled sadly before telling Harry, "Just promise me you won't hurt her. She's suffered enough already. Make it up to her, because no matter what she says, she needs you right now."

Harry nodded, his expression solemn as well. "I am trying to make things better Ron, I'm just not sure how. She's changed too much, and I don't know her anymore. I am not sure anyone knows this new Ginny, because she doesn't let anyone close."

"She doesn't let us close," Ron answered, a ray of hope in his eyes. "For a number of reasons. But she'd never push George away, especially not now." He stared at Harry, "I think you should talk to him. If anyone knows how to get to this Ginny, it's him."

Minutes after Ron left, as he finally sat down to eat, Ron's words still rang in his head. Maybe, there was hope after all.

**To be continued …**

_A/N: I know I said last chapter was hard, but I lied. This one was way harder. Last chapter was emotionally draining, but at least it flowed. This chapter just refused to turn out like I wanted it to. Harry was being a brat, and Ron refused to talk to Harry. Grrr. It should have been done ages ago! A thousand thanks to Carrie, for planning this thing out with me, as always, and for helping me out with Ron._

_And, I know everyone always says this, but sometimes we take our betas for granted. They do an awfully good job, and my story wouldn't be half as good without Zsenya. So this one is for her._

_Anyone picking up on the little hints? Other than Anne, that is. LOL. I am just curious._


	4. From Brother to Brother

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 4/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this.**

* * *

_Come to me in my dreams, and then  
By day I shall be well again!  
For then the night will more than pay  
The hopeless longing of the day._

_ Matthew Arnold_

The Burrow stood tall and proud under Harry's gaze, as his eyes rested on the path that led to the house. The path which scarcely a week ago had looked dirty and untidy, now looked clean and beautiful, as if someone had taken the time to make sure the melancholic air that surrounded the house was not immediately obvious to the strangers passing by.

He kneeled and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh smell of flowers. The wind swirled through them, making them dance, and Harry smiled as he collected one small jasmine. Bitter memories swept through him, but he pushed them away, choosing to focus on the moment. She would like this, of that he was sure.

The sound of laughter coming from inside the house made him stand up, and he took a few uncertain steps towards the door. Laughter had been absent for so long, that it seemed almost foreign in this house, that had once been filled with it. He stopped before reaching the door, and peered through the window, his gaze resting on a young woman with bushy brown hair.

It was Hermione.

He smiled softly as he studied her face. Her brown eyes, those brown eyes that had shed many bitter tears through the past few years looked bright and filled with happiness. Her face was flushed and she was looking as beautiful as a bride was supposed to look as she talked animatedly to Angelina. Harry's heart almost contracted at Angelina's closed-off expression. It would take time, for all of them.

The sounds of someone clearing his throat made Harry jump a bit as he turned around and came face to face with …_George_. It was so easy to confuse him with Fred sometimes, especially on quiet moments like this one, when he was wearing that mischievous expression, his eyebrows up and a small smile on his lips.

"Harry," he said and his voice was filled with laughter, though Harry could detect a bit of sadness behind it. "Do I dare ask what you were doing?"

He tried to match George's smile, but standing there in front of him brought back too many memories, and the smile would not come. His eyes focused on a spot behind George, as he tried to block out the tears that threatened to spill. If seeing George was this hard on him, what would it be for the others? For Ginny? He did not dare to imagine.

"Spying on us?" George continued, and Harry could see that he was doing his best to make sure the mood wasn't somber. Today was about Ron and Hermione, after all, and they deserved some happiness on their wedding day.

"What can I say?" he managed to get out at last, his eyes resting once again on the window, for he did not want to look at George. "You caught me."

From the corner of his eyes, Harry could see George's as he came closer and patted Harry on the back. "It's really nice to see you Harry," he finally said.

"Yes, it's nice to see you too," Harry said, and he wished it wasn't a lie. Seeing him was the hardest thing he had done in a long time, for his presence brought the memories of Fred he had tried to hide to the surface. How in the world could Angelina bear it, he wondered.

"Actually," Harry said, before he lost his nerve. "I wanted to talk to you."

George nodded, and pointed to the door. "We can go inside, if you like," he said, but Harry thought he detected a silent plea to stay outside in his eyes. He did not want to go inside either.

"If you don't mind, I kind of like it here," Harry said, and he was relieved to see George nod as they started walking towards the garden. The sun was shinning brightly upon them, and they walked in silence for a while, enjoying the feel of summer.

"Is everything all right, Harry?" George asked.

"Well, yes, I guess …I ..no" Harry stammered. Starting with Ginny wasn't a good idea. "I was actually wondering about your father."

George nodded. "You know how this is, Harry," George started saying, his voice now only slightly louder than a whisper. "Ron was hoping he could have been here for the wedding, but it just wasn't a good idea." He paused once again and looked out into the house, his eyes touched with a hint of concern. "We just have to wait …until the Ministry is sure that it's completely safe. You understand that."

Harry nodded, "Yes, it's the same for Remus. It's just that I …well, I am not sure I trust that charm after what happened to my parents."

"I reckoned you wouldn't like it. But it's the best for Dad, and it was the best for Professor Lupin," George stated, his voice filled with conviction. "It won't happen again Harry, I am sure of it. Scabbers...er…Wormtail is already gone. He can't do any more harm." George's voice trembled with unsuppressed anger at the mere mention of Wormtail. Harry, who was looking at him closely, could see that his knuckles were white and his arm was shaking slightly. "We chose right this time." His eyes strayed towards the house once again. "The secret is with the family, and it's safe."

"He hasn't been a professor for a while, and still most of us insist on calling him Professor," Harry grinned as he recalled the classes thought by Remus with fondness, trying to steer the topic towards a less touchy subject. "It took me a while to get used to just saying Remus."

"He will always be Professor Lupin for me, and that's the end of it." George said "And now, we can continue discussing Professor Lupin for the rest of the afternoon, or you can ask me what you really wanted to ask me from the start …"

Harry tried very hard not to let his amazement show, but a look at George's face told him he had failed miserably. In the end, he just settled for asking. "How is she?"

"You can ask her yourself Harry," George told him, his eyes filled with a light Harry could not describe. "In fact, I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

Harry shook his head and adjusted his glasses before answering. "I already tried that George, and believe me, she didn't appreciate it." His eyes focused on the grass, and he stared at his own shoes for a long time before finding his voice again. "She made that quite clear."

George shook his head, and struggled to find the right words. "She's going through a hard time right now. Sometimes, I think it's hard for her to decide if she's angry, annoyed or just plain sad." His hand went to rest on Harry's shoulder, forcing him to look up. "That doesn't mean she doesn't care anymore, it just means she is too hurt and scared right now to show it."

"I ...I just wish there was something I could do." Harry said quietly, his expression betraying his anguish. "I just ...I don't know what to do."

"Most of the time I don't know what to say to her either. You just need to be there for her Harry, just be there for her. Without pushing her, and without asking more than she can give right now. Just be there for her."

"What if she doesn't let me?" Harry was still worried. He had tried to be there for her, and he didn't think he had pushed her into anything, and she had still pushed _him_ away.

"She just needs time Harry," George said, "Time to get used to this new world, to all the changes." He looked down and tears glistened in his eyes as he said the next words. "And, she needs to hear you say that you care."

"She knows that already," Harry argued, unable to grasp the concept. "I've made it clear."

George nodded and a long silence descended upon them, the wind blowing a few leaves past them. Harry focused on them, thinking the conversation was already over. But there was still a lot to be said.

"You remember that August day when you saved Fred's life?" George asked, in a quiet voice that reminded Harry of Mr. Weasley. There were tears in his eyes, and a determined look on his face. "Do you?"

Memories flooded through Harry, and this time he was powerless to stop them. He could see Fred, standing in front of him. He could see the Death Eater raising his wand. And he could see himself yelling at Fred to get down, as he advanced towards the Death Eater.

He remembered the dead body.

And he remembered being glad it wasn't Fred who died.

But it didn't matter now. It didn't matter. Fred was dead, and that cold August morning hadn't meant anything to anyone but Fred.

"Do you?" George asked again, forcing Harry to turn his attention to him once again, and he nodded, unable to find his voice.

"That night, Fred and I had a long conversation. It was long overdue. We had been postponing it, convincing ourselves that we would find the time for it later. I think that day we both realized that there might not be a tomorrow. So we talked …about everything."

A few tears rolled down George's cheeks as he talked, but he did not notice them. The wind was blowing even harder now, but he just continued to talk. "It's really …you don't know how much that conversation meant to me. How many times I've had to replay it at night to be able to sleep." George's eyes pierced into Harry's. "You gave me the chance to tell my brother how much I loved him, and that's the only thing that keeps me going some days. The fact that I had the chance to say everything I wanted to say before he died."

"Angelina probably feels the same way," he continued, breaking eye contact with Harry as his eyes rested on one of the many trees. "But Ginny, she didn't get her chance to say it. And that's tearing her apart."

His eyes focused on Harry once again. "She needs you right now. She needs to know you care. And she needs time, that's all. Time to be sure, of everything."

Harry nodded, real hope shinning in his eyes. For all his confident attitude, he had been plagued with doubts about Ginny, and George's words gave him a wonderful sense of relief. But George wasn't finished.

"Promise me one thing Harry," he asked, eyes pleading. "Promise me you'll be there for her." A sad smile crept upon George's lips. "She's my little sister, and I want her happy."

Harry nodded, and a comfortable silence rested upon them as they both focused on the lovely summer day. The trees looked almost alive, and all the flowers seemed to have bloomed to celebrate Ron and Hermione's union. Harry couldn't help but grin. Hermione would probably like to hear that.

A loud bang coming from inside the house made them both jump, and their eyes met briefly before they sprinted towards the house. Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he quickly threw the door open and pulled out his wand, ready to attack. But what he saw made him stop in his tracks; causing George to slam right into him and making them both fall to the floor.

The spectacle before them was even funnier, if that was possible. It seemed like Ron, who still hadn't perfected the Apparating technique, had managed to Apparate right in front of Percy, and as expected, madness had ensued. Percy was still yelling as Harry and George managed to stand up again, but he was probably the only person in the house who seemed even remotely angry about it. Even Ginny and Penelope, who had been huddled in a corner whispering were having a hard time suppressing the giggles.

The sight of a laughing Ginny made Harry forget about everything else. He had almost forgotten how lovely she looked when she was laughing like this. There was still sadness in her beautiful brown eyes, as there was sadness on everyone's eyes, a sadness they would have to learn to live with. The sadness of losing a loved one would never disappear, but life would have to continue on.

The incident between Percy and Ron seemed to relax everyone, the somber mood all but forgotten. A look around the house showed that Ron and Hermione were in the middle of a very animated conversation with Molly while George was doing his best to take the scowl away from Percy's face. Ginny was sitting alone by the window, and Harry was itching to go talk to her, but George's words were still very fresh to him, so he headed for Angelina instead.

"Harry," A small smile appeared on her lips as he sat down in between her and Penelope. The smile grew as he presented her with the long-forgotten flower that he had carried around for a while. Jasmines weren't that common around these parts, and he could still remember how Fred had once had a dozen jasmines delivered to her on their anniversary. They had always been her favorites.

"I can't believe you remembered." She was shaking her head as she stared at the flower, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I haven't seen one of these in …a long time." She smiled again, as her eyes rested on Harry. "Thank you. For everything."

"You have nothing to thank me for," Harry said as he placed a small kiss on the top of her hand. He would have got up after that, but Angelina's hand was holding onto his.

"There are so many things to thank you for." She smiled and Harry rolled his eyes in a comical fashion before sitting down again. "And since I've never been able to thank you in person, I might as well do it now. Thank you, for saving Fred that day ..." Harry shook his head, but she continued, paying no attention to him. "It might not seem like a lot to you, but it gave us more time together. Time to decide on a few things that had to be done. Time to get married." She smiled sadly. "Thank you."

There were a lot of things he could have said, Harry reflected, but nothing that could truly express what he felt, so he settled for giving Angelina a hug before standing up again, a bit embarrassed to notice that Penelope had heard every word.

"Harry," Angelina's voice called out to him and he turned around to where she was sitting. "She'll come around, you'll see." Was all she said, and he smiled as his eyes rested once again on Ginny. Maybe she will. _I am staring to believe it myself_.

Soft music started to play, and he was amused to see that Hermione was now dragging Ron to the a part of the room that had been previously vacated. Ron was no dancer, and from the look in his eyes Harry knew that he wasn't looking forward to making a fool of himself in front of his family. However, when he was finally standing in the middle of the room, Hermione in his arms, Harry could bet that all those fears were forgotten and only he and Hermione remained.

From the corner of his eye Harry could see that Molly was beaming at Ron and Hermione. He considered asking her to dance for a moment, but she seemed happy enough just taking care of the music, and to Harry she looked almost like the Molly of old, even if the doctors had said that probably wouldn't happen, so he shook his head and took a seat, still staring at his friends.

They weren't alone for long. George was dragging Angelina onto the floor just seconds later, and she was complaining very loudly but it was obvious that she really wanted to dance. Percy and Penelope had joined them too, and Harry wondered how long it would take for Charlie or Bill to ask Ginny to dance. He turned to where they both sitting, and to his surprise, found them both staring at him, wearing identical expressions. Harry glanced at Ginny, understanding the message and shook his head, but the expressions did not change. Maybe …

Gathering his courage, he stood up and headed towards Ginny. She looked up at him, and Harry was almost transported back to Hogwarts, when her innocent face used to look at him, filled with love. He was tempted to say something, to take advantage of the situation, but George's words rang in his ears again, and he settled for offering her his hand and whispering softly, "Care to dance?"

To his surprise her small hand found his and they both headed towards the improvised dance floor. If possible, Harry could swear Molly was beaming even more at the sight of them, and he grinned at her before taking Ginny in his arms, where she belonged.

The music was entirely too slow, and he was holding her too close to him, but there was nowhere else on the world he'd rather be right now, than here. He stared into her eyes, and the world started spinning. He had forgotten how lovely it was to hold her in his arms. Her lips were full and he wanted to kiss them very badly, but he restrained from doing so_. Slow_, he reminded himself, go _slow_.

But dancing with her, holding her so close, was some kind of torture. Sweet torture, and he wasn't sure he could take much more of this, so he pulled out his wand, without letting go of Ginny and stopped the music. Everyone looked around and before Molly could start the music again he left the comfort of Ginny's arms and started explaining.

"Well, as lovely as all this dancing is …" He stared at Ginny as he said it, and he could swear she had blushed just a bit. "I'd like to propose a toast to the bride and groom. Ron did warn me that my duties as best man would probably include speeches, so I came here prepared." His felt mischievous as he stared at Hermione. "Come on, all of you, go get your glasses so we can toast."

He stood alone in the middle of the room, and smiled warmly as Mrs. Weasley handed him a glass. "Now, I've known both Ron and Hermione for a long time now, way too long if you ask me, and there are a few things I'd like to say to both," he started, and he could see them both smiling at him. "When I first heard they were getting married, I couldn't believe it. Marriage? It seemed such a big step. I heard someone say once that it's not the marriage that's the problem. Most marriages start out happy. It's living together afterwards that is difficult."

Hermione was giggling softly, but Ron was wearing a expression of mock hurt that made Harry add a few more words. "Hermione, we all know how much of a prat Ron can be, and we are all amazed at your courage. You are a true Gryffindor."

Everyone burst out laughing at this, and Ron was heard muttering something like "You'll pay for this, Harry." But he still wasn't finished.

"Look at the bright side, you won't have to fight with complete strangers anymore. You'll have Ron for that."

Even Ron smiled a bit at that, and Harry raised his glass at them before saying. "For Ron, and Hermione, the best friends I've ever had. May you be as happy as you deserve."

There were lots of smiles, laughs and kisses after that, but as Harry stepped away from the house he realized that the best thing the could take away from the day wasn't George's words, or Ron and Hermione's thanks, but Ginny's smile as he announced he was leaving. Hope had taken permanent residence in his heart.

And not even the strange view of a couple of dead rats by the waste bin as he got home were enough to break him out of his good mood. Ginny didn't hate him. In fact, it was entirely possible that she still loved him, and everything was all right with the world. Well, almost everything …

**To be continued …**

_A/N: I am afraid I had to cut out the marriage or this story was going to take me about 5 chapters more than planned. There is an outtake of that in the works, and another outtake that I think at least Kat and Ami will find interesting. Those shouldn't take long. I've got to thank Anne for this chapter, because I had planned things a bit differently, but thanks to her I was able to figure out the best way to make them work. You **Rox** Anne! Also to Carrie, for letting me ramble, as always, and helping me get my ideas into some kind of order. Finally, this chapter is dedicated to my cyber-sisters, as always._


	5. Healing

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 5/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this.  
**

* * *

_I am not yours, not lost in you,  
Not lost, although I long to be  
Lost as a candle lit at noon,  
Lost as a snowflake in the sea_

_ Sarah Teasdale_

The warm summer breeze hit him in the face as soon as he opened the door, and the sun seemed to be shining on whoever was visiting Harry, for he had to cover his eyes as he struggled to make out who it was. The day seemed almost too bright and the birds filling the air with their beautiful songs reminded Harry of days gone by, of beautiful old Hogwarts. Of happy times.

Of before.

When he still had Ginny, and she loved him. When he hadn't done anything to push her away, and they used to explore Hogwarts hand in hand. When Fred was still alive and George didn't have that haunted look on his face that filled Harry with guilt, for not being able to do anything. When he had Sirius, and Remus, and something that could be called a home.

Maybe he could have that again, after all.

A small smile grazed his lips as he finally caught of glimpse of his visitors, even as two silent tears made their way across his cheeks, and he wiped them away quickly, not wanting anything to disrupt his sight. He opened his mouth slowly, and found himself at a loss for words. In front of him stood both Sirius and Remus, wearing identical expressions of happiness, and he had a sudden image of his parents. It felt almost as if they had found a way to send all their love to Harry in the form of their two best friends.

Words were not needed in the end. There were many things to discuss, questions to be asked, encouragement to be given. But in this moment, as Harry found himself hugging the two men who represented his only link to his parents, he fancied he was almost hugging them, as well. And that was all he needed.

Hours went by in a blur as Remus told his story, and Harry had to marvel again at the wonderful acts of heroism, courage and love it had taken to win this war. It hadn't been only him, or Sirius, or Remus. It had been everyone, and the whole magical community was better for it. There was a bond, a commitment between every witch and wizard that had never been there before. The magical community was one, at last.

"Deep thoughts, Harry?" Remus inquired softly, with a tone Harry had to admit he had missed. It was caring, and it held a hint of worry, but it was also respectful, recognizing Harry as the man he was, and giving him his space. He nodded and grinned as he stared at the laughing face of Sirius, before turning back to Remus and answering, "I was just thinking. It's become a bad habit of mine lately, to think about all the could-have-beens and might-have-beens."

"You're old enough to know that, no matter how much we want it, we can't make everything all right. And at the risk of sounding melodramatic, as everyone seems to be in the habit of sounding lately, it's time to go on with our lives, look to the future. Don't put the past completely behind you, because even if things are calm now, we can't be sure it's really over. But focus on the future." Sirius said.

"Just stop that, Harry," Remus added, and Harry thought this was beginning to look too much like a lecture for his comfort. Thankfully, Sirius's eyes were still filled with joy, so Harry didn't think this lecture would end bad. He loved Sirius very much, but sometimes, or rather, most of the time, their personalities just clashed. Maybe he just wasn't a patient man. He wondered how Remus did it.

"Are you done with your deep thoughts now, Harry?" Remus asked, and Harry heard Sirius snicker. Trust Remus to realize when he wasn't paying attention. He nodded and smiled sheepishly as he focused on Remus, who continued, "We lost many things thanks to the war. But some of those things ...some of those things we can get back,. Harry. It's time to focus on those."

"He means Ginny, just in case you didn't get it," Sirius had to add, to Harry's dismay. So he wasn't fooling them either. He shook his head. Was he that transparent?

A grinning Remus continued, "If I am correct, Mr. Weasley should be home right about now. Maybe it's time to visit the Burrow."

Harry shook his head. "It's a family thing, and I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense. Molly told me to send you there as soon as we were done talking to you. And even if there are many more things that could be said, Moony and I don't want to monopolize your time. Go, and send Arthur our regards."

He had never been one for emotional displays, at least not with anyone but Ginny, and even that had taken time, but in this very moment Harry felt like hugging Sirius. It was a strange feeling and he fought to control it, but apparently he didn't need to, for Sirius was standing up and reaching for him to give him an awkward hug.

"Just go Harry," Remus said, staring at him and Sirius with a smile. "Any Floo powder?"

"I'm afraid not," Harry shrugged. "I am not planning to stay here for long, so I didn't think to get into the Floo Network."

"It's no problem Harry. We'll Apparate. And so should you, while we're at it. In fact, you go ahead, we'll wait until you're gone before heading home."

"Sirius," Harry muttered, but Sirius was having none of it, and for once, Remus seemed to be on his side. "Pop by the house anytime, if you need to talk." He smiled as he went to stand beside Remus. "So, what are you waiting for?"

"Coming, coming," Harry said as he rolled his eyes and prepared to Apparate.

Sparkles of light hit his eyes and he closed them tightly, doing his best to ignore the funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. Apparating had never been one of his favorite things, and ever since the war had ended, he had found himself doing it less and less. But Sirius could be a thickheaded prat if he wanted to be, and he had no desire to start a fight with him, especially not now, so he went along.

If you had never been to the Burrow, and you were to arrive in this precise moment, as Harry was doing, you would probably think there was something wrong. The air was charged with sadness, and the atmosphere around the house suggested that something precious was missing. But to Harry, there was something more in the atmosphere, something he hadn't felt in a while. Closure, and peace.

Mr. Weasley was home.

He should have known that if Remus was home, Mr. Weasley would be home too, but he had been too giddy to finally have the chance to spend some time with both Remus and Sirius without having to look over his shoulder to consider anything else. The war had taken so many important things away from them, that the time spent together was cherished now, more than ever.

It was a bit funny, now that he thought about it, that two of the people closest to him had ended up being so important in the end. The final battle had been long and hard, and it had taken deaths, sacrifices and tears to defeat Voldemort, but they had finally done it. Together. There was no use in pointing fingers now, no use in contemplating who was the most important one. In the end, everyone had done his part. Some had been easily recognized, like Remus, a werewolf, and Mr. Weasley, a well-known Ministry of Magic employee. Death Eaters had been looking for revenge, and they were the easiest targets. Hiding had been the only choice. Now, they were finally free to live life after war.

"Ah, Harry dear, here you are." The joyful voice of Mrs. Weasley brought him out of his reverie and he soon found himself enveloped by a pair of loving arms. A wonderful feeling of being at home warmed his heart, and he held on tightly. This remarkable woman had stood beside him, and had given him love, bringing a little light to his life when there had been only complete darkness. Now, she wasn't nearly as strong, the many tragedies had left a void in her that may never be filled again. More than ever, she needed him now, needed to know how much her love had meant to him.

"How is everything?" he asked, not completely sure if he should ask for Mr. Weasley right away. But Mrs. Weasley just smiled, and without letting go of his hand, started walking towards the living room. Once they were there, Harry couldn't help but feel lighthearted. It was typical Weasley chaos, with more people than the room could hold and everyone talking at once. Ginny and Angelina were huddled in a corner, while George, Bill and Charlie seemed to be teasing a blushing Ron. Percy was talking quietly to his father, and Hermione and Penelope were talking animatedly while making trips to the kitchen to make sure everyone had something to drink. It was almost like going back in time. The shadow of Fred's absence wasn't gone, but it seemed lighter today.

"Harry!" Hermione was the first to notice him, and she gave a small jump before coming to hug him. It had been almost a month, and she was beaming. "I don't even have to ask how the honeymoon went," he joked, and she blushed slightly before giving way for Mr. Weasley, who was now standing beside her.

"Seems like the party is complete now," he said, and Harry understood. He was part of this family now, no matter what had happened with Ginny. A smile spread across his lips, and for the first time in his life, he found himself hugging Mr. Weasley, happy to see him back.

"It's nice to see you, my boy," was Mr. Weasley's response, once they were both settled on the couch. "How are you?"

"Life is getting better by the second," Harry answered truthfully. And it was. It wasn't perfect--for that he would need Ginny with him--but it was definitely better.

Many things were said, many tales shared. For once, Harry was not alone with hazy memories of a victory he couldn't remember taking part in. This time, the memory was shared by many people. It didn't matter who had started it, or finished it, all it mattered was that it was over, for everyone.

Time went by, and the words kept pouring out, until there seemed like there was nothing else to say. Angelina was finished with Ginny, and now seemed to be waiting for him to finish talking to Mr. Weasley. Harry had one more thing to say, but Mr. Weasley interrupted him before he could even think about uttering the words.

"Go, son. And good luck!" was all he said, and Harry saw that his eyes were focused on Ginny.

He felt the need to clarify. "All I want, is for her to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I know that. Now make sure she does, too."

A hand grazed his shoulder before he could stand up, and he turned to stare into Angelina's eyes.

"Just give her time. She'll come around," she murmured and Harry gave her hand a squeeze before getting up and heading towards Ginny, while Angelina settled comfortably to have her first real conversation with her father-in-law.

"Ginny? Is it all right if I sit down?"

She looked up at him, and offered him a tentative smile before nodding and pointing to the spot beside her. "You know it is Harry. This is your house now, as much as it is mine."

He shook his head, and stared at her clasped hands before answering. "Oh, but I'm making your mother proud by asking anyway, don't you think?"

"She's not here to hear you."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not doing it to earn points. I'm doing because some people, including your mother, worked hard to teach me to be polite," he answered, and waited for her reply, trying to gauge her mood.

"That's exactly the way she would have liked you to answer. You seemed to have learned a lot, Mr. Potter."

"I try. And, the name is Harry, if you don't mind," he said, and his face broke into a grin when he saw her visibly relax as she fought to contain a giggle.

"Very well, _Harry_." she answered, her voice light.

"Now, I wasn't planning on this, but since we're here …well, would you mind coming with me for a moment? There's something I'd like to show you," he asked, his eyes pleading.

"Oh, but everyone is here and …"

"Well, we can go tell your mum so she doesn't worry. And it won't take long, I promise."

"All right. Let me just go tell dad that …" Ginny's voice suddenly stopped, and Harry turned around slightly to see Mr. Weasley and Angelina in the middle of what seemed to be a very emotional conversation.

"Or, I'll go tell Mum. I don't think he wants to be disturbed right now."

Harry shook his head as he stared at the scene. It was almost pointless, but for a moment he wondered how things would be if Fred were still alive. For a moment, he allowed himself to be overcome by grief, but when Ginny came to stand by his side again, throwing him an expectant look, he forced himself to put it aside, like he always did.

"Shall we?" he asked as he offered her his hand.

"Is it close? Or do we need to Apparate?" she asked, not daring to look at his hand. And Harry understood. The fear was still too raw, too fresh to allow her feelings to control her again. It was safer, for her, to pretend she had no feelings.

"It's very close. And a walk will do us good. Besides, I hate Apparting."

"Yes, I remember hearing about that," she said softly, so softly Harry might have missed it if he hadn't been so focused on her. He stared at her, an intense look on his face and she looked around uncomfortably.

"We should go, or it will take us forever. Right?" she asked, trying to break the awkward moment.

"Yes, you're right," he said as he headed for the door, and held it open so she could step outside. It was a beautiful day, and it wouldn't take long for them to reach their destination, but as they started walking, he reckoned he could just walk with her to the end of the world, and back.

"This reminds me of …" he started saying, but he stopped before he could finish the sentence. It reminded him of a wonderful afternoon together, of beautiful memories of his parents. Of thinking they were meant to be. And right now, that probably wasn't the best thing to mention to Ginny.

She did not ask what it reminded him of, nor did she seem at all interested. In fact, she didn't even look at him as she walked, and when Harry's hand grasped her arm, she gave a little jump.

"Sorry," he said. "I just thought you'd like to know that this is it. Here we are."

Harry was sure that whatever Ginny was expecting to see when she raised her head, this was not it. In fact, this was probably much more than she had ever dreamed of seeing. In front of her stood a house, a magnificent house. The lights were off, and the place look deserted, but the house seemed to radiate warmth. Harry smiled at her expression. She seemed as captivated by the house as he had been, the first time he saw it.

"Is this ...I ...why are you showing me this Harry? Why this house?"

"After the last conversation we had, I sat down and thought about my life. And I realized it was incredibly empty. I spent so long preparing for the war, I never even considered what I wanted to do with my life. At the time, I only knew I wanted you to be part of that future. And now that it's time for me to start building that future I've wanted all my life, well, I had to start somewhere, didn't I? This seemed like the perfect place to start."

"Are you telling me that this house is yours?" Ginny asked, her voice broken.

"Yes, it is. When I walked by it, that first day after coming back and I saw the sign all I could think of was buying it. It brings back good memories, of us. I remember walking by it, and admiring how full of life it seemed, and I remember the dreams we used to share then. I think I bought it, mainly as …evidence. Proof that I'm not planning on going away again."

"You say that now," she said bitterly. "You say it now, with such conviction that I almost want to believe you. But you're only saying it because things are calm. How can I know that you won't run away next time something bad happens? How can I know that next time, you will choose to deal with life by my side instead of trying to protect me? How can I be sure?"

"Gin, I know, believe me, I know I've hurt you. I've done many things that I'm not proud of. But Ginny, everything I did, I did it out of love. If I left alone, I did it because I loved you too much to take you with me. All I've ever wanted was for you to be safe."

"That, that isn't love Harry. Love is more than that. Love is trust. It's being together in good times, and being together in bad times. It's getting through bad things together, and drawing strength from the other person. Love isn't selfish, Harry."

"The war is over, Ginny. You don't have to worry about bad things anymore. Me, I know I probably didn't handle things the best way I could have. But, the past is the past Ginny. And I'm here with you, right now."

"Yes, I know that. But, you want to hear the sad part? I can't trust you to not run away again and leave me at the first sign of danger."

Harry ran his hands through his messy hair, and shut his eyes tightly, a pained look on his face, before answering. "And I probably deserve that. But all I'm asking for Ginny, all I'm asking for is for you to give me the chance to prove you wrong. That's all I want. A chance to prove that this is it, for good."

He stared at her beautiful face, her eyes filled with unshed tears and whispered softly. "You want to know something about me, Harry Potter, _The Boy Who Lived_? Well, there is this girl he cannot live without."

His hand reached out to take hers, and he squeezed her little hand tightly, for reassurance. "And if you give me a chance, I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you."

Brown eyes stared at the house, Ginny's expression unreadable, and no word came out of her mouth as they stood there. Her hand remained linked with Harry's for what seemed to him like a very long time before she finally let go and stepped away, her eyes never leaving the house.

He looked at her with longing, before letting his gaze rest on the house, just like hers.

_Somewhere in London …_

"All right, so the poison didn't work. All we got our of that was some dead rats. Apparently, Harry Potter has more lives than a cat."

"Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you shouldn't be focusing on him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you kill Harry and you get your revenge. But, doesn't he deserve to suffer the same thing you've suffered? Doesn't he deserve to wake up one day, and find that he is all alone in the world?"

"That's a rather interesting idea. I knew having such an experienced Death Eater like you on my side would come in handy. It may be time to change the plan."

"Yes?"

"Harry deserves to die. But he won't die. I want him to live, _alone_, and with the knowledge that he was responsible for the deaths of everyone he cares about. And I know exactly who to start with.Oh, dark days are coming for you, Harry Potter. It's time for you to pay for what you did to me. It's time for you to suffer."

**  
To be continued …**

_A/N: All right, so I haven't forgotten about this. The story is finished, has been finished for a while, so I will post a chapter a day till it's all posted here. :) I wrote this a long time ago, before OoTP, and re-posting it brings back so many things, so I just want to take this moment to thank everyone who's been there all this time, everyone who read this when I first posted it, and everyone who is reading it now. This is for all of you. :)  
_


	6. Destiny leads the way

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 6/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_Because I could not stop for Death,  
He kindly stopped for me;  
The carriage held but just ourselves  
And Immortality._

_ Emily Dickinson_

"Weasley?" a deep, cold voice asked, a touch of amusement in the question.

"No, not Weasley. Granger. Hermione," another voice, much softer, but laced with a deep and extraordinary pain, responded.

"Why her?"

"Ginny is the big dish, to be served last. Hermione, on the other hand… We get rid of her, everyone suffers. Including our poor boy Ron. And that's exactly what I want. I want all of them to suffer. I want _him_ to suffer."

"Suffer? Then why kill them right away?"

"He killed my …"

"Yes, I know," the icy voice answered, slowly and deliberately. "And you want revenge for that. You shall get your revenge, you shall kill them all, until Harry Potter is left alone. But first …you need to make them suffer. You need to scare them. What could be more amusing than The-Boy-Who-Lived, and his friends living in fear, even after our Master's defeat."

"Fear. Fear. There is an interesting concept. Fear. For a Gryffindor to be afraid, to live in fear." A cold, empty laugh followed. "You, my boy, are a genius. They will know fear. And I, I will get my revenge."

A light, almost unseen rain fell on top of a harried Hermione, as she made her way across Diagon Alley. The morning was dull and gray, one of those mornings when you just want to stay curled up in bed with a warm blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, but Hermione's steps were firm and determined, as if there was an emergency, and she had someone to meet, or somewhere to get to, quickly. In truth, the matter that brought her to Diagon Alley this morning was not as urgent, but equally as important.

To call it a premonition would be …well, it would go against her nature. It was more like a …strange feeling, a quiet but powerful force that made her get out of bed without waking up Ron, and come to Diagon Alley, for apparently no reason

She had never been one for premonitions. In fact, she had often scoffed at Professor Trelawney and her _inner eye_. Admittedly, she was much more fond of reliable subjects such as Transfiguration, and Potions, to pay much attention to Divination, and by the time Professor Trelawney had thrown her out of her class, she had convinced herself she had no talent in that area.

That was why she had been surprised by the quiet certainty that her life was about to take a dramatic turn. It hadn't been a sudden revelation; on the contrary, the strange feeling had just flared up one day, and had grown within her, despite her desperate attempts to dismiss it, until she was not able to ignore it. And that was how she found herself walking rapidly and determinedly through Diagon Alley, with no idea about where she was heading.

She stopped walking to regain her breath and couldn't help but let out a chuckle as she looked up and noticed the name of the store she was standing in front of. It was ..utterly… she shook her head. Just impossible. Of all the places she could be going to …for this to be the one …it felt almost like she had been tricked. By herself.

Still laughing, she turned, ready to take the first couple of steps, dismiss her stupid feelings and get as far away from this place as she could, but strangely enough, she did not. Instead, she took a deep breath before facing the shop again, and before giving herself time to think about it, she had walked to the door and opened it, looking around with weary eyes.

"Can I help you with something, dear?" a round, plump witch asked, a brilliant smile on her face. At Hermione's silence, she continued. " How about you come inside, sit down, and I'll get you a cup of hot chocolate while we look for what you want?"

"I—I am not looking for anything in particular," was all Hermione could think to say.

"It doesn't matter, dear," the smiling witch said, as she closed the door behind Hermione and led her to a comfortable-looking armchair by the window. "Just sit down, have a cup of hot chocolate and we'll discuss it. Most young women who come here have no idea what they are supposed to get. That's why we are here for."

Hermione felt like protesting that she was in the wrong place and that she had nothing to buy in a store like this, but the comfortable armchair, alongside with the cup of hot chocolate the small witch had placed in her hands was enough to change her mind After all, just looking couldn't hurt, could it?

"Now, dear. By your reaction, I gather this is your first time in a place like this. My name is Margaret, and I am here to help you. Tell me, does your husband know you're here?"

Ron! Hermione jumped up slightly as she remembered she had left the house this morning very early, and she hadn't even left a note. She had never done that before, and she was sure …oh, poor Ron. He would be worried sick.

"I am sorry," Hermione said hurriedly, "I'd almost forgotten about my husband. He'll be very worried about me. I really have to go." She looked around with weariness. "Thanks for everything, Margaret. I have a feeling I'll be back."

"Yes, you will, my dear. Yes you will. Next time, bring your husband. I've always said husbands have to be a part of this, as well," Margaret answered, the smile never leaving her face. "And, I want you to take this," she said, shoving a small bag into Hermione's hands. "We always give one of these to our first-time customers. And, I am sure you'll be back."

Hermione didn't have the heart to refuse. "Thank you, very much. I'll see you around …I guess," she said, before hurrying out of the door and taking a few deep breaths.

"That was – weird," she said to herself, as she started walking rapidly, to avoid the rain. The small bag Margaret had given her fell to the pavement, and when she leaned down to get it, she couldn't help but let out a gasp as she finally caught a glimpse of the contents. It was …beautiful. And Margaret had seemed to know what she was saying. Could it be?

A silly smile appeared on Hermione's lips, and she stayed there just contemplating the contents of the bag for what seemed like and eternity. It was …could she be? Well, if it was true, then her life would be complete. Everything would be perfect, just perfect.

And that was her last thought before she heard a couple of screams, someone mutter a curse and the world went black.

_These damn hospital chairs are pretty uncomfortable _was Harry's conclusion, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting. Briefly, he wondered what was worse, getting the news that something had happened to Hermione, or having to wait in the hospital, surrounded by worried family members, and with no idea what to say to Ron, for news of how she was doing. It was just …wrong.

The war was over. Voldemort was dead. These things were not supposed to be happening. Your best friends were not supposed to be getting attacked on the middle of Diagon Alley one morning. No, your best friends were supposed to live happily ever after, like in those stupid fairy-tales. Everyone was supposed to live happily ever after.

But once again, the reminder that real life was no fairy tale struck Harry with force. In real life, friends died. In real life, your loved ones suffered. In real life, things did not come easily. You had to fight for them.

_Real life sucks _was Harry's second conclusion of the day as he looked over to where Ron was standing, almost ready to fall apart. He surveyed the room, and found identical expressions of worry in the faces of Hermione's parents, and Mr. Weasley, and, of course, Ginny.

Things had been going – well, he didn't dare say things had been going better with Ginny, but at least things were going somewhere now. There were still many things to discuss, many walls to tear down between them, but now he had ... no hope, because hope was almost the last thing you lost, and very easy to get back, if you did lose it. He now had a quiet certainy that things were going to change, with time and effort.

He took a deep breath and reached for her small hand, giving it a squeeze before standing up and closing the space to where Ron was standing. He had no idea what to say, or what to do, but Ron was his friend …Hermione was his friend. And now that Ron needed him, more than ever he did not intend to back down.

"Ron, you need to sit down and eat something," Harry said, slowly but firmly. "The doctor said they needed to run some tests to make sure everything was all right, and I'll bet my Quidditch set that you haven't eaten anything today. Do you want Hermione to find you like this when she wakes up?"

"Don't you understand, Harry?" Ron said wildly, the first words he had spoken to anyone in a while. "She may not wake up Harry. She..." His voice broke, and he started at Harry, his face contorted in pain, and his eyes filled with tears. "She may not wake up."

"Ron," Harry said, grabbing him by the shoulder and looking straight into his eyes. "You heard the doctor. She's all right, they just need to run some tests to make sure there is no internal damage."

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron cursed as he pushed Harry away. "Do you really think she's all right? This isn't a Muggle hospital, Harry. Don't you understand this isn't common? No one ever needs to run more tests here, Harry. If she were all right, then they would have let us see her, by now!"

"Ron …" Harry started to say, but whatever he was going to say became unimportant as soon as he caught of glimpse of Hermione's doctor, heading towards them. He nudged Ron, and the both stood there, too afraid to move, too afraid to ask.

"Mr. Weasley," the doctor asked Ron and he nodded. "Your wife is doing very well. She has a few bruises, but nothing serious. You can go see her now, I think she has something she wants to tell you."

"She is, I mean …is she – all right?" Ron asked as he leaned against Harry for support.

"Yes, I assure you she is doing just fine. You can go see her, now."

"Thank you, thank you!" Ron whispered as he took a couple of hurried steps towards Hermione's room. In front of the door, he stopped and looked at Harry for what seemed like an eternity before nodding, and whispering again, "Thank you."

Harry had nothing to say to that.

In the next hour or so, it seemed like everyone came to visit Hermione. Her parents, each and every one of the Weasleys, Ministry officials. Even people Harry hadn't seen since Hogwarts suddenly appeared, carrying roses and bowls of fruit. People that Harry knew disliked Hermione, appeared just to see how she was doing. Even Remus and Sirius, had managed to pay Hermione a visit, which was something of a shock to Harry, because it had been a full moon the night before, and Harry knew how tired that left Remus.

Everyone had gone in and out, until the doctor had finally had enough and sent everyone home. His patient needed some rest, he had said, and she wasn't going to get it with so many people trying to see how she was doing. He would release her tomorrow, and the could all go visit her… at her house!

So, one by one, they had all left, until only he was left, still sitting in the same chair he had been sitting for the last hour or so. He had been the only one to not go in, at first because he wanted to give Ron some time alone with Hermione, and later because he needed the time to get a hold of his bearings.

He had always known how much Ron meant to him. Ron had been his first friend, the first one to accept him, and like him for who he was, Harry, and not for being The-Boy-Who-Lived. And thought he had been stupid enough to ignore what was so blatantly obvious, deep inside, he had always known how important Ginny was.

But Hermione… sometimes, it almost felt like she was just… there. It's not that he didn't care for her, it's just that he didn't know how important her friendship had become to him until he'd thought he was about to lose her. And, to be honest, that had scared him. Until not so long ago, he had thought he could survive, as long as Ginny was with him. The reality of his mistake loomed larger now. He needed his friends, as much as he needed Ginny. He loved them, as much as he loved her. It was not the same kind of love, of that he was sure, but that didn't make it any less. It was love.

Thinking about it, Harry reckoned that it had taken him so long to realize all of this, mainly because of the people around him. He had been putting up with questions, misconceptions, rumors about him and Hermione for as long as he remembered. No one seemed to accept that he saw her as a sister. Everyone seemed to think they were just perfect for each other. And although everyone's view of them had never changed Harry's feelings towards Hermione, it had made him close off a bit. Just in case.

And now, that life was giving him a change to right all his past wrongs, he suddenly realized, it was not only to Ginny that he had to apologize. It was to Hermione, as well.

"Harry?" Ginny's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked up to see her, bathed in the warm light of the hallway, and smiled. Even without the white robes, the wings and the halo, she looked like an angel.

"What are you doing here? Hermione is asking for you!" she continued, doing her best to ignore Harry's look and took his large hand into hers, as she led him to the room.

Once inside, he was engulfed by the happiness his friends seemed to reflect, and he smiled as well, before closing the space to Hermione's bed and hugging her tightly, hoping that hug could transmit all the things he didn't know how to say.

"Are you all right, Harry?" she asked softly, and he laughed out loud at her question. Even when she was hurt, and lying in a bed all patched up, Hermione could manage to worry about everyone else.

"I'm not the one lying in bed, covered in bandages," he said as he placed a soft kiss on her brow. "I am all right; I was just …worried about you, believe it or not."

"Yes, so worried that you rushed to see her as soon as you could, right Harry?" Ron said, but there was no recrimination on his voice, only laughter.

"Well, if you promise not to tell that prat of a husband you got yourself," Harry whispered, "I was actually sitting outside catching up on all the freaky behavior I couldn't display since we learned you had been hurt, because someone had to keep your husband calm."

Hermione laughed, a nice, hearty laugh. "Oh, I believe you Harry. I do," she said as she winked at Ron. "But I am glad you're here, now. And you too Ginny. Because, well, Ron and I have something we want to ask you both."

Ginny smiled from her seat, "You know you can count on me, Hermione. For whatever you want."

"Same goes for me. In fact, you two don't even have to ask."

"Oh yes, we do Harry, we do." Ron was now grinning from ear to ear now, and Harry exchanged a look with Ginny. What could they have to ask them?

"Today's incident, which, I'm sure you want to discuss Harry. And believe me, we will …" Hermione started saying, her hand holding firmly onto Ron's. "Well, today's incident, if nothing else, brought us some wonderful news that… we wanted to share with both of you, before letting anyone else know."

"And at the same time, we wanted to ask both of you something that… well, who else would we ask? Harry, you are our best friend, and if something were to happen to us, we would …"

"Ron, for Merlin's sake, you're scaring me, and I'm sure you're scaring Harry as well. Just get on with what you were going to ask …" Ginny pleaded.

"Well, the thing is …I'm going to have a baby," Hermione said, softly, her face glowing.

"Ooh, Hermione," Ginny said and she threw herself into the older girl's arms, both smiling as tears flowed freely.

"A baby," Harry said, "a baby." He looked up at Ron, and his friend was smiling brightly. "A baby," he repeated once more, almost as if he couldn't believe it, and he closed the space between him and Ron, giving his friend a hug. "A baby," he said again.

"Yes, a baby." Hermione said, when Ginny finally let go. "And we, well, we would like you to …" She stopped, her voice choked with tears and handed Harry a small bag. He looked down into it, and picked up four very small robes. Besides the typical _Mummy loves you_ and _Daddy loves you_, Harry could see two more, that were, without a doubt, meant for him and Ginny. He looked at both of them, his eyes filled with tears.

"You want us to be …?" Ginny asked softly.

"Yes, we want you to be the baby's godparents," Ron said, his smile wider than Harry had ever seen. "And, we hope you won't say no."

No? Harry wanted to ask. How could the say no? But Ginny beat him to it.

"We would never say no," she answered smiling, and when Harry nodded at her, she continued. "We'd be truly honored."

**To be continued …**

_A/N: Boy, this was hard. LOL. Have I mentioned Ron and Hermione hate me? A thousand thanks go to Carrie, for helping me figure them out and to Anne for the great job of betaing and her little comments that not only make me laugh, they give me great ideas too! But this chapter is dedicated to two people: Carissa, just because …people like her should have things dedicated to them all the time, even if she does evil things to my titles. And to PW, because if it weren't for him bugging me about this chapter, it wouldn't have gotten done. As always, this one also goes to my cyber-sisters, especially to Elle, because I am glad she is back. Boy, I missed you, sillay!_


	7. Memories

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 7/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I'm not making any money out of this.  
**

* * *

_Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live  
My very life again though cold in death;  
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give  
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:  
Speak low, lean low,  
As long ago, my love, how long ago._

_ Christina Georgina Rossetti_

The pale morning light streamed across the window, hitting Harry in the face and illuminating his weary features. A soft sigh escaped him, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly, as he tried to push the memories away. Sleepless nights were not completely unfamiliar to him, but he hadn't had a sleepless night ever since the war had ended, and he was a bit out of practice at brooding all night, or so it seemed.

Countless memories assaulted him every time he closed his eyes, so he had tried to keep them open all night and ignore the echoes of past battles and forgotten sins. Somehow, in the morning light, nothing seemed as dark and dreary.

Not even death.

_"What's the matter, Potter?"_ a voice mocked him, as it had, many times in his dreams. _"I thought you were supposed to be the big hero ...not up for a little fight?"_

But he had been up for it, and how he had regretted it. The worst part of the war had been, without a doubt, having to raise his wand against other wizards, most of whom he didn't know, and some whom he did, and curse them.

There was nothing in his life, no previous experience, no classroom teachings that could prepare him for the emptiness and regret that came with taking someone else's life. No way to explain the dark shadow that, from that day forward, would forever be with him. And during the war, there had been no time, either.

But later, when he had found the time to think about it and to acknowledge the large cloud of guilt that had settled over his heart, he had felt the need to explain, to ...say something. He had killed someone, and he was suffering from it, and yet he couldn't even begin to imagine what the mother, father, girlfriend ...the ones closest to that person were feeling.

The desire to talk to never materialized. It had just shrunk, until all that was left of it was a tiny memory, hidden alongside all the bad memories, and covered by the many words Harry had heard on the matter, and that helped him justify himself. It was not Harry's fault, after all, that he had chosen to follow Voldemort, and even if Harry felt sorry for killing someone, he didn't have to go ask for forgiveness. In fact, it was that Death Eater's family that had to ask forgiveness to the cause, someone went as far as suggesting.

And Harry believed it all, because it was easy, and because it relieved him of a burden he did not wish to carry.

But now, the unexpected attack on Hermione brought all the guilt and resentment that seeing Ginny again, even if things hadn't turned out the way he hoped, had managed to push aside. He had taken the life of someone he knew that miserable day that still plagued his nightmares. He had lost so much, the cause had lost so much, that no previous warning, no honorable oath, could keep him from going after those responsible. It hadn't been just another faceless stranger in the darkness that day, and for that he now suffered. All the killings, all the pain, all the deaths seemed to merge until all he could remember was that face. One face, for all the suffering. Suffering he had caused.

That realization brought even more guilt. He was responsible for other people's suffering. Everyone close to him ended up dead, or hurt. For all he knew, the attack on Hermione was probably related to the fact that she was his friend. Nothing good ever seemed to happen around him.

Except, maybe, Voldemort's defeat.

And he couldn't even take the credit for that, for if it hadn't been for countless other people, Voldemort would still be alive. Harry had just been … a piece of the puzzle. Remus getting the Magical Creatures on their side, that had been important. Hagrid convincing the giants that they shouldn't join forces with Voldemort, that had been important. Mr. Weasley operating a secret net of information that discovered the names and locations of each and every one of the Death Eaters, that had been important.

He had just been the one to pronounce the words that vanished Voldemort from their lives ...forever.

And right now, that seemed like very little, especially considering all the losses, all the pain. He had foolishly thought that life would suddenly get better now that Voldemort was gone, that the pain and fear would disappear ...that he would finally be truly happy.

But, maybe happiness wasn't meant for him.

Seeing Hermione lying there in the hospital bed, covered by blankets, and looking pale and scared had been a wake-up call for him. He couldn't really get back together with Ginny, much less be someone's godfather. It was just ...dangerous for him to get close to people. Ginny would be better off without him, and as for Ron and Hermione's baby ...well, the baby would never get to know him, therefore would never get to miss him.

"Harry!" A familiar female voice interrupted his gloomy thoughts and he sighed before turning around to face her, his face covered by a mask of cheerfulness.

"Hello, Hermione," he said lightly, as she moved to hug him. "What are you doing here? And, more importantly, how did you get in?"

She pulled back from him, and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. "It's actually fairly simple, Harry. You don't have any kind of wards, you know. We did knock first, but you didn't seem to hear us." She regarded him seriously for a moment. "Are you all right? Ron and I are a bit worried about you."

It took a whole second for Harry to notice the tall and lanky redhead standing behind Hermione. He shook his head slightly, wondering how in the world he had failed to see Ron. His eyes traveled back to Hermione, and he could see she was about to ask the same thing. His mind worked quickly. Food, he thought. Blame it all on not having eaten, not only does that always work, it always distracts her from what she has to say.

"Ron, mate. I didn't see you," he said lightly as he got up from his uncomfortable chair and headed for the kitchen, patting his friend on the back. "I haven't eaten anything in more than a day, so you'll have to forgive me for my lack of attention." A small smile appeared on his  
lips. "Thankfully, I still have some of that food your mother sent me, or else you would have been subjected to my cooking ...and you know what that means."

"Yes, a certain disaster." Ron answered lightly.

"Indeed." Harry's eyes traveled from Ron to Hermione, and back again, before daring to ask. "So, what brings you here?

"You." Hermione stated simply, as she took a seat on Harry's kitchen table, not before removing a dirty sock and something sticky whose identity she'd never dare to ask about. She's going to lecture me now, Harry thought. She's just going to go on, and on about bachelors, and

how I should try to keep things clean, and eat healthy, and get enough sleep. She's about to start, now.

But Hermione's next words surprised him. "You're not going to get away with it, you know," she said, and Harry gulped. She couldn't be talking about ...that, right? She didn't know, couldn't know.

A look at Ron's face proved she did know. They both knew.

"You think after almost ten years we don't know what you're thinking, Harry? You think we don't know you feel obligated to put everyone else before you, and sacrifice what could be your last chance at happiness because you don't want anything to happen to us? Well, you're wrong. We do know you. And we're not going to let you get away with it."

"I don't ..." he started to say, but Hermione interrupted him and surprised him, by once again saying the last thing he expected to hear.

"When I first heard I was pregnant, I was hoping I would have a girl. I was planning to name her Destiny, because it felt terribly romantic and appropriate to me. Now, I think I've changed my mind. I want a boy, so I can name him Harry, in your honor."

What he was planning to say flew out of his mind at Hermione's last words. What in the world had he done to deserve them, he asked himself as he searched frantically for an answer. Ron, however, saved him from the trouble of finding it.

"I still think we'll have a girl, just because ..._Destiny_? I mean, how corny is that? Serves me right for saying she could choose the name, if it was a girl. Now I will have to pay for having said it."

Harry laughed, a nice, real laugh and they soon joined him. It was, after all, rather funny to think of Hermione naming her baby girl Destiny, he thought, but what was he to do? He was only going to be the godfather, after all.

"I'm sorry," was all he said to them, once the laughter had died down, and the three of them had settled on the kitchen table. "I was just ...I don't know what's come over me. I keep going back to the worst moments of the war, and blaming myself for them."

"You think you're the only one who blames himself for what happened the night Fred died?" Ron asked quietly, his voice full or resentment. "You're not, believe me. But, it's time you learned to put it aside, Harry. You need to go on with life, and for you to be able to live fully, you need to let go of what happened that night."

"Let go of ...?" He felt the need to ask, because the guilt was threatening to choke him. How could he let go, when he had reminders of him ...of her, everywhere. How to let go of the one death he carried on his shoulders, when the living proof of the pain he had caused was so very close to him?

"Yes, even of that, Harry," Hermione said as she took his hand in hers, and squeezed it. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you ...but I want you to know, that I saw her ...just a few weeks ago. She looked fine, just like the girl I knew at Hogwarts. She even has that glow back. She looked happy, Harry. You don't need to make yourself miserable on her account."

"You think she was happy?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"I think she finally realized the mistake she'd been about to make ...and she is at peace with everything. Why can't you be at peace with what happened, as well?"

"I ...I don't know. It's just like a dark cloud that's settled over me, and I am not sure what to do to get rid of it."

"Love, and let yourself be loved," Ron answered slowly, and he grinned when Hermione looked at him with amusement. "Believe me, it's worked for me."

"What Ron is trying to say," Hermione clarified, as she headed for the fridge, "is that you would be very stupid to let go of Ginny now that you are finally getting somewhere, just because of your fears." She paused and gasped loudly as she stared at Harry's fridge.

"Dear God, you need a girlfriend. Or a kick in the bum, I am not sure which one. How can you survive like this, Harry? There's nothing in your fridge!!! No whipped cream, no chocolate ice-cream, not even pickles! Once again, I ask ...how can you survive like this?"

Harry laughed as Ron rolled his eyes and whispered. "Cravings. They've been getting worse. Better not to ask."

"Oh, Harry, this is disgusting," she proclaimed, as she rummaged through the contents of his fridge. "I thought you at least had something edible! This ...can't be eaten. I'm sure Molly will send some more if you ask her. For now, I'm throwing this away!"

Ron rolled his eyes once again. "Motherly instinct, it seems. And I have to live with her like this for another six months or so. Just wonderful," he said sourly.

"Harry?" Hermione's soft voice interrupted them after a moment of silence during which he and Ron exchanged amused glances…"You haven't eaten any of this, have you?"

"What?" he asked, because she seemed unusually quiet and scared, and the change in her mood just didn't add up.

"Are you feeling well?" she continued, her voice a little stronger. "Because if you aren't, I'm sure I read somewhere about a spell I can ..."

"Hermione, what are you blabbering about?" Ron asked, looking as confused as Harry felt.

She looked at Ron strangely and then back at him before finally speaking.

"The food ..." she said, in a voice that was not hers. "I think it was poisoned."

**To be continued**

**_A/N_**:_ Alas, I blame the flu for being three days late with the update. And, maybe my Bones DVDs, but the flu is mostly to blame, because DVDs or not I would have gotten up had it not been for the fact that I was feeling miserable. So, here we go! Enjoy.  
_


	8. Two sides to courage

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 8/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_From the window or the door.  
I shall set forth for somewhere,  
I shall make the reckless choice  
Some day when they are in voice   
And tossing so as to scare  
The white clouds over them on.  
I shall have less to say,  
But I shall be gone._

_ Robert Lee Frost_

A large smattering of dust flew out of a very large book as a slim, brown-haired woman rummaged through it, seemingly intent on finding something. Her eyes were alight and her very busy hair was held down by a rather extravagant hair pin as her eyes scanned the page quickly, and set down the book with a resounding _thud_ next to a large pile of books she had already discarded.

Seemingly unfazed, she turned to the next book, and continued her search as the light shimmering through the open window and the birds chirping outside presented a very vivid reminder that it was summer, and there were better things to do than sit in a library.

And what a strange library it was. The books were kept in perfect order, of course, separated by subject and author, as in every decent library, and there was even a small restricted section, which existed only to give the sole user of this library the sense of belonging she had always felt at the Hogwarts Library.

It was a small wonder that one Hermione Granger, the same girl who had been Head Girl at Hogwarts not so long ago, had decided to settle down. Some might have been surprised that she decided to do so with one Mr. Ronald Weasley, a former Gryffindor classmate and her long-time boyfriend. But it would have surprised no one that this same girl had decided to turn the one spare bedroom in her new house into a library.

Those same people would have been surprised to know that one Mr. Ronald Weasley actually spent some evenings here, among his wife's books, and had grown to enjoy them almost as much as her.

But the matter that brought Hermione to the library on this warm, sunny day wasn't one she was enjoying much. Especially considering that after hours of careful research, she found herself reaching the one conclusion she hadn't wanted to reach.

A loud knock interrupted her thoughts, and she let out a frustrated noise, as she pushed the hair back from her face and yelled, "Come in!"

Seconds later, the reason she had spent such a beautiful day inside, surrounded by books materialized in front of her, his green eyes filled with concern and his messy black hair looking even messier than ever. She felt a sudden tenderness at the sight of him, a budding desire to just reach out and hug him, and telling herself that it was bad to deny a pregnant woman's most basic urges, she reached out before Harry could say a word and hugged him tightly to her, straightening his hair as she did so.

"Are you all right?" he asked when she let go of him, and she marveled, not for the first time, at how he could push aside his own concerns and put other people first. One could call Harry Potter many things, but selfish wasn't one of them.

"I should be the one asking you that," she said with a slight smile as she motioned for him to sit. "Besides, Ron should have warned you already that I'm rather …er …emotional these days, so there's nothing to worry about."

He smiled a real smile this time, as his eyes traveled to her still flat belly. "Yes, I think he mentioned something about you turning into a crying, slobbering girl."

"That's my Ron," she said cheerfully. "He has such a way with words."

They laughed together, enjoying the moment, for they both knew it couldn't last. Pretty soon, they would have to discuss what she had found, for that was the reason he was here. And as soon as she thought it, she saw his expression change slightly, and he stretched in his chair before asking the question she had been dreading. "So, what did you find?"

"You go first," she argued, her face impassive. "I need to know what you found out in if you want me to reach some kind of conclusion."

He nodded, his eyes empty and his voice hollow as he answered. "You were right, of course. The food was poisoned."

She nodded, paling slightly. "I reckoned," she answered slowly, her eyes never meeting his. "I thought, I mean, I hoped I was wrong, but deep down, I knew I wasn't. Did you talk to Molly about it?"

"I tried to, but it didn't go very well. She seemed very offended that I could even suggest that she didn't cook those things, and she assured me that no one but her, and maybe Ginny, had come in contact with that food. Which leaves us with nothing."

"It makes sense," Hermione started and Harry paused to listen. "If someone wanted to poison you, they wouldn't try anything at The Burrow. The place is always filled with people, and they have many wards. Your flat, on the other hand, it's small, secluded, and you have no wards. More importantly, you are not always home, so it's possible that someone just entered your place while you weren't in and poisoned the food."

He nodded blindly, trying to follow Hermione's train of thought, and recognizing how much sense it made.

"Of course, you live alone so you wouldn't notice a couple of things out of place, as I'm sure Molly would. It just makes sense." She paused, and stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Harry, have you noticed anything strange since you came back? Anything at all?"

He paused, and racked his brains for things amiss, but he could find nothing worthwhile. "I'm sorry," he said lamely, "I just can't think of anything important."

"Don't think of the important things, then," Hermione suggested, as if struck by a sudden idea. "Think of the small things you might have noticed. Things out of place, small things you didn't care much about at the moment, things like that."

At once, a couple of images came into Harry's mind, unbidden, things he had almost forgotten, the sight of all those dead rats by the waste bin the day of Hermione and Ron's wedding, and if he went farther back …wasn't it true that the hadn't been able to find Ron's wedding ring because it just wasn't where he had placed it? He had forgotten about it, with all the hype about the wedding, but he remembered now. It made sense.

"I was…" he started, his eyes fixed on the window. "I was keeping your engagement ring hidden, so you wouldn't find it. And then Ron went ahead, and screwed it all up by asking you before he was meant to, so he came to see me, to ask for the ring. When I went to look for it, it wasn't where I had placed it. I had almost forgotten about that." His eyes met hers; and from his expression she knew that he could see her mind starting to make the connections.

"And, the day of the wedding, I came back home to find a couple of dead rats by the waste bin outside. I thought nothing of it, and someone must have cleaned them up, because I had forgotten I'd seen them, but now I remember that earlier that day I had thrown away some of the food Molly sent me." His eyes widened as he realized just how close the person trying to kill him had come to succeeding. "That day, when Ron came to see me I was so startled I dropped the food tray, and it smashed on the floor. I had to clean it all up, and throw it away. And then, after that, I saw the dead rats and…" He looked at Hermione blindly, understanding in his face. "That was poisoned too."

"Quite probably," she said quietly, taking his hand and squeezing it tightly.

He let her hold his hand, but didn't do anything to return the gesture. His face was pale, and his expression betrayed the inner turmoil he was feeling. After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, he spoke. "Who do you …I mean, Voldemort is gone," he said stupidly.

"Yes, he is. Don't you even dare to think about it. He's gone Harry. We got him, for good. But, as much as we would like to think that Voldemort embodied all things evil, it wasn't so. We got him, and we caught most of his Death Eaters, but there are still some we haven't caught. And, it doesn't even have to be a big bad Dark Lord or one of his cronies, Harry. You represent so many things for those of us who fought against Voldemort, that I am afraid there are a great number of people who could be trying to kill you."

"Including …" he started saying, but he couldn't continue for his voice caught in his throat and he had to look the other way to block out the wave of guilt that Hermione knew always came with thoughts of the war.

"Yes, including her. I can't rule it out, though I don't think she'd be capable of something like that. She wasn't really a friend, but I knew her better than you did during our Hogwarts years. I was astounded when she started going out with Flint. And, I would like to believe that, whatever she did, or said at the time was because she loved him. And, you know what they say about love making us act like fools."

"Yeah," Harry muttered stupidly as he thought about Ginny. Her glowing smile, her soft voice. He loved her so much, that he had acted like a fool more than once. And he was putting her in danger, again.

"I'll check her out, though. We can never be sure. For now, and until we find out who's trying to get rid of you, I'd advise you to keep a low profile. That means no more _Daily Prophet_ interviews for you, Potter!" she said laughingly.

"And no more visits to you and Ron," he said slowly, his gaze locked with hers.

"We already had this conversation, Harry. I am not giving you up, and neither is Ron. You don't have to protect us, and we won't allow you to do it. We choose to be your friends, and we will continue to be with you, no matter what."

He felt oddly touched at her words, but he couldn't let them risk what they had together, the family they were about to form, just for a misguided sense of loyalty to him. He would be fine.

"And don't you even dare bring the baby into this, Harry," Hermione said, almost as if she could read his thoughts. "The baby needs a godfather as much as she needs her parents. And we intend to make sure her godfather is here for our baby."

"_She_?" he asked laughingly, all other thoughts pushed back. "What makes you so sure it's a girl?"

"Well, it's rather what Ron deserves for being so obnoxious. So I reckon it'll be a girl." She grinned, and placed a hand over her still flat belly. "And, I don't know …I think I just hope it's a girl. I've always wanted to have a girl."

"I'm sure," he said slowly and deliberately, "that girl or boy, the baby will be very happy. And he or she will have a wonderful mum."

Hermione smiled, and enveloped him in a hug once again. He rested his head on her shoulder, and tried to push away the darkness that seemed to be engulfing his soul once again, as he realized what was coming, and what he would have to do.

"I can't do anything more to protect you, or Ron," he told her, once she had let go of him. "And, I am not sure I could go on without you both. But, I can do something to protect Ginny. And, I intend to."

For the first time since he entered the room, Hermione actually looked fierce. "Don't be a prat, Harry. Ginny doesn't need you to protect her, anymore than we do. And, she wouldn't want you to."

He shook his head slowly, his face determined. "I have to do this, Hermione."

"She just started opening up to you again. Are you going to throw all that away, just because of your stupid fears?" she asked slowly, her voice pained. "I expected better of you, Harry Potter."

"This isn't about fear," he lashed out at her. "This is about me, wanting to keep Ginny alive!"

"No, this is about you being afraid to lose her. So what do you do? You keep her hidden away, safe in a crystal bauble. Well, forgive me, Harry, that doesn't cut it. Believe me, I know it's hard. But you need to trust her, and you need to control your fears."

"I am not afraid of anything," he told her. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"Well, act like one," she shot back. "Act like one ...in the things that count. And, maybe then, you'll be happy, for once."

Her words ringing in his ears, he Dissaparated back to his dark and lonely flat.

_To be continued …_

_A/N: Well, we are getting closer to the exciting stuff …I swear. LOL. This chapter has a few more clues for you, Carissa. I hope you can figure it all out, now. This chapter is for Paula, because if it were not for a few well chosen words from her, and a rather lengthy post she made about continuing stories, I would have given up on this. So, thank you Paula!  Now, it's your turn! wink_

_And, Anne, it was certainly worth it. I hope you enjoyed your vacation!_


	9. Subtle Masquarade

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 9/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this.**

* * *

_Let not thy divining heart  
Forethink me any ill;  
Destiny may take thy part,  
And may thy fears fulfil;  
But think that we  
Are but turn'd aside to sleep;  
They who one another keep  
Alive, ne'er parted be._

_John Donne _

The long and narrow path that led to The Burrow had been cleaned out long ago, and it could scarcely be said that the house looked shabby or unkempt, but to Hermione's eyes, it still looked gloomy and forlorn, as if a dark shadow was hanging over it. Everything about the house looked exactly the same, the trees were abundant and the flowers were blooming, but there was one thing that differentiated this house from the one she had known years ago.

It was silent.

Years ago, a visitor would have been hard-pressed to silence the crowd of Weasleys living under this roof, especially considering Fred and George's antics and Ginny's temper. But now, Fred was gone, George had become …something else altogether, and even Ginny's temper seemed to have faded.

_Or, she's doing a very good job of hiding it_, Hermione thought ruefully as she made her way to the house. Their once sister-like bond had faded with time, and the years of separation hadn't been kind to them. Sure, they were still friends. Sometimes, Hermione thought she was the only one Ginny half-listened to. But while she had been away fighting, Ginny had stayed home, and Hermione wasn't sure Ginny was ready to forgive her for that.

Harry and Ron had built a kind of male understanding during the war, a kind of understanding she was foreign to, and as happy as she was for them, she longed for something like that, too. She wanted Ginny, her old friend, back. More than anything, she wanted them to recapture what they had before the war. She wanted to see Ginny happy.

And if coming to tell tales on one of her best friends achieved that, so be it. He would one day thank her. They both would thank her one day.

"Hermione," she heard a familiar voice call before she had reached the door, and she could see Ginny coming from the general direction of the garden, the sunlight dancing in her hair and making her freckles stand out more, a wonderful contrast to the bright flowers she was carrying.

Someone else, someone who didn't know her very well, might have confused this Ginny with her younger, carefree self. She was smiling and her eyes were alight with something akin to mischief as she took a few certain steps towards Hermione. And yet, a great deal of sadness and regret still lurked in the girlish face. But sadness and regret didn't bother Hermione as much as the flash of anger she could still plainly see hiding behind Ginny's bright smile.

She took a few steps forward, meeting Ginny halfway and she smiled warmly before hugging the younger girl. The hug was returned, and the smile didn't leave Ginny's eyes as she set down the flowers and motioned for Hermione to follow her.

"Have you come to see Mum?" she asked, as she led her inside, "She's doing very well these days. She was terribly worried about you and very upset when the healers asked us to keep her away from St. Mungo's until you got better, but once she got the news about the baby, she brightened up considerably. The healers warned us that she probably wouldn't make a full recovery, but we think she's almost back to normal, now. She was yelling at me today, just like old times."

"I'd love to see her," Hermione said, placing a hand on Ginny's shoulder so she would stop walking. "But, actually, I came to talk to you."

Ginny's eyes glittered faintly with surprise, and Hermione could see her fighting to keep her expression neutral. Call it instinct, call it sixth sense, but in that moment, Hermione could plainly understand what Ginny wanted -- no needed -- to hear from her right now. And if that's what it took for Ginny to trust her again fully, so be it.

"I should have told you this a long time ago, but Ginny, I just didn't think that …" she hesitated, her voice soft and uncertain as she did her best to avoid Ginny's penetrating gaze. "I …I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," she finally whispered, her voice low but firm. "I'm sorry for not taking your side all those years ago, and I'm sorry for not writing to you more often, and for letting us grow apart. But mostly, I'm sorry for ever making you feel like I don't trust you. Because, I do."

She trailed off, seemingly over, but before Ginny could even open her mouth, she continued. "You are the closest thing to a sister I've ever had, Ginny, and I miss you. I'm pregnant, and temperamental, and I need my best friend right now. And that's …you. It's always been you."

"Oh, Hermione," Ginny said softly, as she threw herself into the other girl's arms, hugging her tightly. "You don't need to say anything else. I've missed you too. Oh, God, I've missed you. You have no idea how much I've missed you ..."

It was all they needed. The tears kept falling for a while, and tea and biscuits were devoured as they sat comfortably in Ginny's room, the place where they had traded so many confidences, and talked about the baby, and all the secret thoughts and worries Hermione had kept hidden from her husband and Harry seemed to pour out of her, to be soothed by Ginny's comforting words.

"I'm just …how can I bring a baby into this world, Ginny?" Hermione's face was uncertain and pale as she tried to put her fears into words. "This is a broken world. The war is over, but there are still many things that need to change, to be rebuilt."

"And, it's always been that way. You, my friend, are too clever to be worrying about that. So, why don't you tell me what's really on your mind?" Ginny asked softly, her eyes searching Hermione's.

Hermione sighed as he tried to avoid Ginny's gaze. How could she admit that she, who had always succeeded, was scared of failing? How could she admit that the idea of not being a good mother terrified her? How could she own up to the fact that she was scared of failure?

"I just ...I don't know, I think I'm…I'm scared I'll be a dreadful mother!"

Ginny laughed at that, a real laugh that made her look young and carefree. "That won't happen," she said slowly, as if trying to make sure Hermione couldn't miss the meaning of her words. "Not only because you probably did your research, and know the three hundred and eighty seven ways of handling a baby and the seven most common mistakes mothers make, without even having your baby …but because of your heart, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes softened at that, brimming with unshed tears as Ginny continued. "You'll love that baby, and you'll protect it with your life. And you'll teach him good, because you are good. Of course,

things aren't perfect, but for this baby, the world will look a bit brighter than for the rest. For he will have a wonderful mum."

The tears were falling again, softly this time, and Ginny's arms weren't enveloping her with the force they enveloped her before, but Hermione could feel the aura of companionship and understanding that had always surrounded them return. Things couldn't go back to the way they were, but that didn't mean they couldn't be great again. And with that in mind …

"You know what else will make this baby really lucky?" she asked softly, reaching out to hug a pillow against her chest in a gesture of reassurance wholly unnatural in her. "He will have the most wonderful godmother in the world. And she'll be there for him, always."

Ginny clasped her hand. "You know I will be..."

But Hermione didn't let her continue. "And, he will also have the most wonderful godfather ever. A brave, and loyal man who always keeps his word, even if that means sacrificing his happiness. A stubborn twit that doesn't realize that letting other people in doesn't mean putting them in danger." Her eyes locked with Ginny's once more. "A kind, and wonderful man who loves you."

Ginny sighed loudly.

"And, a complete moron who's decided he has to push everyone away, again, to save us from danger."

"WHAT?!" Ginny heard herself screaming, and even more strangely, she couldn't even remember opening her mouth. "He said that to you, Hermione? He actually told you that?"

"Well," Hermione started, trying to find reasoning behind the unreasonable. "He was very worried after my attack, and he might have mentioned something about staying away from me, and Ron, and the baby …and you."

"What?" Ginny's question came out harsher this time, her voice no longer a whisper. "Who does he think he is? He doesn't get to decide when to let me in and when to throw me away," she continued angrily, her face flushed as she got to her feet, "I'm not letting him do it again. I'm not a little girl anymore. I have a right to fight for what I want, and what I want is him! So he'd better deal with that."

And with that, she walked out of the room, leaving a stunned Hermione to wonder what Harry would say to Ginny's outburst.

She burst out laughing.

Harry Potter never knew what hit him. One second, he was standing in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies completely oblivious to the unusual amount of people looking around the store, as he stared at the new racing broom prototypes, his mind already on the Qudditch field, the wind on his face as he flew towards the Snitch, and the next he was staring into a pair of brown eyes filled with anger.

"Ginny?" he asked uncertainly, wondering what was wrong, his mind already coming up with a million different, and farfetched answers.

"Yes, it's me Harry," she whispered angrily, not wanting to draw attention to them. "Ginny, the girl you love. The girl you want to spend the rest of your life with. The girl you can't live without. Or isn't that so anymore?" she asked, and her voice had turned bitter. "Maybe you've changed your mind once again …just like last time."

"Ginny," he started again, and there was nothing on his mind but what he was going to say. All thoughts of caution, all his worries and fears, even his old doubts took a back seat to his feelings in that moment. He _needed_ her to understand. "Nothing has changed," he said softly, but firmly, his eyes downcast.

"I love you. And, I always will," he said quickly, wanting to get this over with without giving her hope.

It was too late. He knew it as soon as he looked into her face, and it almost broke his heart. But he steeled himself for what was to come, and took a deep breath before cracking out, in a voice that wasn't his.

"But, we can't be together." The light in her eyes died, and Harry felt himself die with it, but he continued. "No matter how much I care about you, we can't be together if it means you'll be in danger. I couldn't take it if something happened to you, because of me. So I'm doing all I can to prevent that. I'm staying away from you."

He took a few steps back, slowly, hesitantly, and turned around, ready to leave, but her voice brought him back.

"Damn your nobility complex, Harry! Don't you think that's my decision to make? Don't you think it should be up to me? It's my life, after all!" she yelled, this time not caring who heard them, tears spilling into her face, and her hair framing her face in a messy, yet adorable way. He yearned to touch her, to hold her in his arms, and never let her go. But he had to do the right thing. He couldn't allow anything else to die …because of him.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said softly, his voice barely audible as her turned around once more. "Goodbye."

She knew she shouldn't have closed her eyes; she should have stared at him until the last second, or she would never be able to let him go. But she did close her eyes, and almost instantly she felt a prickling sensation running up and down her spine that forced her to open her eyes as abruptly as she had closed them.

The scene that greeted her weary eyes was not a pleasant one, and she felt herself cry out just as darkness enveloped her, as well.

"Harry!" his name resonated in the empty street, as the lone figure of Ginny lay face down on the ground.

**To be continued …**

_A/N: Alrighty, only 3 chapters and an epilogue to go. A thousand thanks to Anne, not only for the wonderful betaing job, but for the ideas for the title, as well. But the credit goes to Chi, for actually coming up with my brilliant title, and at the first try! Chi, you ROX!  
_


	10. To rescue a friend

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 10/13**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Not even a little bit, sadly. No infringement is intended, and I'm not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_And it can dwell on moonlight glimmer,  
On evening shade and loneliness;  
And, while the sky grows dim and dimmer,  
Feel no untold and strange distress­  
Only a deeper impulse given  
By lonely hour and darkened room,  
To solemn thoughts that soar to heaven,  
Seeking a life and world to come._

_Charlotte Brontë_

Dark, blurry shapes swam beneath her eyelids and a loud sigh escaped Ginny's lips as she fought to regain consciousness. In the stillness of the room her sigh was almost deafening and when the world finally came into focus, a pair of brown eyes not unlike hers, set in an expression of tremendous anxiety, met hers as the expression slowly changed into a smile.

"Ginny?" Ron asked, looking a bit uncertain. "How are you feeling?"

"Ron," was all she could muster as she struggled against the dizziness, and the terrible ache that seemed to have settled over her. She tried to say something else; to ask him where she was and why she felt as if a part of her was missing, but all too soon her own brain provided her with the answers she so desperately needed, and she collapsed back onto the pillows, her eyes filled with tears.

The memories came rushing to her, and she bit her lips trying to keep the tears at bay. She could not collapse right now, not while there was still … "Ron," she suddenly asked, her voice filled with urgency, "have you heard anything? Do you have any idea what …" She trailed off, not daring to voice her deepest fears, knowing Ron probably shared them.

"We don't know much, Ginny," a third voice answered her as Hermione Granger came into view. She was deathly pale, her eyes red and puffy, and Ginny felt like lecturing her. What was she doing here? In her condition, she should be at home resting. But, she couldn't say anything, for she knew, without a shadow of doubt, that if she had been in Hermione's place, she wouldn't have wanted to stay home, either. "We were actually hoping you could give us some information. What do you remember?"

Ginny's eyes focused on the window, and she took a calming breath before letting herself relive everything, from Harry's hurtful words, to the horrible dread she felt as she saw him struggle against a dark hooded figure. Then she remembered pain, terrible pain, and when she had recovered enough to look up again, they were both gone.

"We had a fight" was the first thing she said, her voice small and childlike. "We had a fight, and he told me he was staying away from me. He said goodbye." Her voice cracked and she shut her eyes firmly, to keep the silent tears running down her cheeks from turning into an all-out sob-fest. She needed to remain calm right now, more than anything. "And, then," she continued softly, "he turned around and started walking away. And I looked away for just a second, and when I looked back he was struggling against a dark hooded figure. It looked …" Her voice faltered once again. "It looked like a Death Eater." She locked eyes with Ron before continuing, "Then there was pain, blinding pain, and when I looked up again, they were both gone."

"I couldn't even react," she said softly, mostly to herself. "He was being attacked, and I just stood there, and let him get taken away." The tears came freely this time, and she could do nothing to stop them. "I… I c-couldn't h-help him," she stammered at last, as the sobs overcame her.

Instantly two pairs of arms were around her as both Ron and Hermione enveloped her in a very awkward three-way hug, and they stayed that way for a long time, as fears and hopes all meshed into one and they drew strength from one another. They were going to need that strength.

"Ginny." Hermione's hesitant voice broke the silence as she put enough distance between them to look Ginny in the eyes. "There's one thing we didn't tell you," she said softly, her hand grasping Ron's for support. "This morning, we got a note from Harry's captor."

"A note?" Ginny asked, as conflicting emotions settled in her heart. The hope she did not dare to put out, hope that Harry would be fine, and they would soon be together met with the blinding fear of losing a loved one, again. Willing her voice not to break, she asked, as much determination in her voice as she could muster under the circumstances, "What did it say?"

A trembling hand -- she wasn't sure whose, but it was probably Ron's since she could feel what she thought were Hermione's hands on her shoulders -- produced a small piece of parchment, and she stared at it blankly, as her own hand reached over to take it from Ron. Almost as if in a daze, she opened it, and stared at it, willing herself to read it, and most importantly, to understand its contents.

_Dawn. Fred Weasley's dying spot. Come alone if you wish to see Potter alive._

_A friend_

Over and over again Ginny's eyes traveled across the words, trying to make sense of them, but her brain refused to cooperate. Harry was going to die, she realized with a sudden finality that left her speechless. He was going to die unless they did something, unless she did something. All the tears, the pain, the regret that had filled her relationship with Harry for the past few years evaporated in an instant, and suddenly all that she could remember was the love she felt for him, and the tremendous happiness they had once shared, and could share again if only she could get him back.

"How long do we have?" she asked Ron as she kindly pushed Hermione's hands away from her, her heart brimming with so many different emotions she couldn't even identify what she was feeling any longer.

"Not long," he told her, her eyes now focusing on his wife as her hand grasped his tightly, and for a second she felt an enormous wave of regret to see Ron and Hermione dragged into this. Hermione was pregnant, for crying out loud! She shouldn't have to go rescuing friends, and she shouldn't have to worry about losing her husband, or her best friend. But Ginny knew how painful it was to stay behind, and she would never ask that of Hermione. This was her battle, as much as it was Ginny's, and they were going to need their combined strengths if they wanted to get Harry back.

"Well, I think it's best if you hand me my wand and turn around so I can change, Ron," she said simply, her eyes determined and her mouth set. "We wouldn't want to keep Harry waiting."

She saw Ron open his mouth, and she could see a thousand questions, a thousand worries, a thousand doubts. But in the end he just nodded as a fierce determination showed in his features, and he turned around so Ginny could get ready.

Hang on Harry, Ginny couldn't help but thinking as she stepped into her robe. We're coming.

The wind had managed to unclasp Ginny's hair from its hair pin, and now she walked slowly, almost as if surrounded by a red cloud. The warmth of the afternoon was beginning to fade away and Ginny grasped her cloak tightly as she walked, but her steps weren't any less firm or swift because of it. On the contrary, she seemed to gain strength with every step she took into the hallowed field that had seen her brother die, even as thousands of memories and questions assaulted her with an unknown ferocity, almost as if they wanted to prevent her from advancing.

But step after step they went farther and farther into the place that had seen so many battles, so many deaths. She looked around, almost without meaning to, for she did not want to look around the place where her brother's life had ended so prematurely, and was almost surprised at how lonely and forbidden the place seemed. It was almost like …the spirits of the dead were haunting it, preventing it from ever being used for anything else.

_Now is not the time to think about spirits, Ginny_, she admonished herself as she followed Ron farther into the fields. _Now is the time to focus on Harry, and how to get out of here alive_.

They hadn't been able to come up with much of a plan, to Hermione's dismay, mostly because they were in a hurry, but also because they had no idea who or what they were up against, and even for Hermione, it was hard to come up with a plan with so little information. So, in the end, they had decided to stick together, and trust their bond to guide them through whatever was coming.

_Above all things, don't let yourself be ruled by panic._ The childhood lessons imparted by Professor Lupin came back to her in a blinding flash of illumination as she stared to the right and felt her heart compress painfully in her chest at the sight before her.

There, barely twenty feet to her right, hung Harry, his arms and feet tied to a tree and his head hanging loosely in front of him. Sweat had plastered his messy black hair to his scalp, making his face look open and vulnerable, even as his scar stood out against the paleness of his skin. A trickle of blood grazed his temple, and numerous painful-looking bruises and burns covered his face.

For a moment, Ginny could not react. Her vision blurred and she felt a tremendous pressure in her head. It was almost as if time had stopped, and all she could do was stare at Harry, unconscious and in pain, unable to help him, or even go to him.

She understood it all at once: her mother's desperate pleas to stay, her father's gentle request, Ron's barely hidden relief, Harry's timely goodbye. It all made sense to her now. They had been trying to protect her from _this_.

And they had almost succeeded.

But all-too-sudden reality had come crashing in, and when she could finally push the numbness away, all the hard-earned lessons were quickly forgotten, and she did the only thing she could think of, the only thing that made any sense.

The only thing that Ron and Hermione had warned her against doing.

She screamed, her voice breaking the deafening silence like lightning on a clear night, and before she even knew what was happening she was running for him, desperate to release him, to hold him tightly, to never let him go.

Then a dark figure materialized in front of him, wand raised, and she heard Hermione's astonished gasp as the face of the hooded figure became clear.

"Yes, it's me," a female voice said, her lips curving into a hideously vacant smile "Just little old me," she added slowly, her eyes focused on Ginny. "And you want to know why?" she asked bitterly, her young, pretty face suddenly unattractive as she raised her wand and fixed it on Ginny. "You want to know why? Because your boyfriend over here took something very important away from me."

But Ginny wasn't looking at her, hadn't looked at her, not even once. For in front of her stood the man she had loved for longer than she could remember, and she needed to gather all her strength for what was to come. For if she was going to die, she was going to die trying to rescue him.

That choice, however, was taken away from her as the woman standing to her left muttered something and suddenly, those green eyes she loved so much were staring at her, a pain so profound it took her breath away reflected into those green orbs.

And for every second she stared at him she felt herself dying slowly, little by little.

"But …why?" Hermione's voice coming from somewhere very close to Ginny broke Ginny from her thoughts, but she didn't break eye contact with Harry, even as she tried to pay attention to the conversation going on besides her. "Why did you do it?"

"Didn't you listen to me?" the woman demanded angrily, "No, of course you didn't. Why would you? You're little Ms. Know-it-all, with her perfect boyfriend, and her perfect group of friends. Why would you ever listen to _me_?"

She laughed then, a cold icy laugh that made Harry wince and Ginny shudder. "I did it because I want him to suffer. And, that, my dears, is why you are all here. You see," she continued slowly, drawing out each word. "Physical pain is not enough… Harry has proven himself more than able to withstand it. But how would he feel having to watch his friends die in front of him. Slowly. One after the other?"

Ginny could tell from the speaker's voice she'd gone completely insane.

**To be continued …**

_A/N: Anyone want to venture a guess as to who our 'bad guy' is? I'd love to see what you all think about that!  
_


	11. Revelations

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 11/13**

**Disclaimer: Not mine! Not mine! Not mine! No infringement is intended, and I'm not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_I thought them friends  
Was most important to me  
They took away.  
Everything ends  
Now that he's tied to a tree  
I'm sure he'll pray.  
He'll learn what it's to face  
And he'll embrace  
The same faith than I before:  
No loved one left anymore_

Brown eyes were set in an expression of torment unlike anything he'd ever seen.

The wind in his wounds stung, and he could feel the bitter taste of blood in his mouth, and yet his senses were attuned to the scene unfolding around him. His ears could pick up Ron's muffled curses and Hermione's high-pitched voice trying to make sense of it all and in the background he could hear her laughter loud and clear, coming from somewhere to his right.

But he couldn't take his eyes away from Ginny's face, not even to ascertain where the enemy was and perhaps come up with some strategy to give them a tactical advantage over her. He knew the odds were in his favor if he could only turn around, four wizards, three of them armed …against one scorned and highly emotional woman. If he could only focus, they could find a way.

And yet Ginny's eyes were like the ocean, drawing him to her, and he longed to let go and to climb inside her arms and be safe forever, to touch the strands of hair that had come loose and softly kiss the spot of freckles alongside her left ear.

So focused was he on Ginny, that he almost didn't hear _her_ speak, but then Ginny turned around, taking away the solace of her beloved face, and he was forced to turn right, where a very familiar witch was pointing her wand at him and he managed to catch the last of her words.

"… killed, all because dear Harry thought it more important to save your beloved brother."

He swallowed blood again, and tried to fight against the wave of guilt that thinking about that cold August morning always brought. And yet, he didn't regret it, he couldn't regret it. Because, right here, standing in front of Ginny, he finally understood Angelina's words. Even a few precious seconds with the one you loved were better than nothing.

"You just left him there …to die." She was speaking again, a whiny yet pained tone to her voice. "He wasn't good enough to be saved, apparently. Just because he wasn't a Weasley." She spat out the last word with something akin to hatred, and Ron's eyes dilated as he spoke the words Harry had repeated to himself over and over again, trying to appease his conscience.

"That's now how it happened…you don't know the whole story; look …he was hit by one of the Death Eater's curses. It was an accident"

She laughed then, and for the second time in the evening Harry was ready to declare that she had gone insane. She had laughed when Harry had recognized her too, the crazy laugh resonating through the walls as she hit him, her wand almost forgotten. She seemed to take pleasure in hurting him with her own hands. The wounds were superficial, and he didn't actually feel that bad, but he knew he looked horrible. Perhaps, that's exactly what she wanted.

"It was an accident, really. Look, you have to listen to me ..." Hermione started.

"I have to listen to you, Miss Know-It-All? When did you ever listen to me? You were always too good for me, hanging around with The Boy Who Lived, getting the best grades and a steady boyfriend. You never even paid attention to me, or my problems. So, tell me. Why should I listen to you? So you can tell me that your dear friend Harry didn't kill my boyfriend?"

"He was a Death Eater." The one voice that had remained silent spat out, her voice steady as her brown eyes looked at the woman who was pointing her wand at Harry.

"He was my boyfriend! I loved him!" she screamed, as a lonely tear descended down her cheek. "And he killed him."

Harry closed his eyes, and almost without meaning to, let himself go back to that day, where so much had been gained, and lost.

_There had been nothing important about the day, nothing unusual about the battle. A cold August morning, a correct tip-off, and a battle that no one had been looking forward to. _

_And, more familiar faces among the Death Eaters. _

_Marcus Flint, the former Slytherin Quidditch Capitan, among them. And amidst the surprise, and shock, Harry couldn't help the feeling that he was, once again, back at school. The famous Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry was being replayed under far more serious circumstances this time. At school it had only ever been a question of House pride and who would win the Quidditch cup. Now it was a far more lethal matter_

_And Harry had heard the rumors that they were going out, had even heard they were engaged. But he hadn't really believed it. After all, who'd ever heard of a Slytherin going out with a Gryffindor?_

_But, during the battle there was his opponent to think about, and not until he had been defeated could Harry look around for his friends. Hermione was holding her own against a dark-haired witch he had seen in previous battles, and Ron was trading spells and blows with Crabbe. Of the two, Ron looked like he could use the help a bit more, so he advanced towards Ron, ready to do whatever was needed._

_And that was when he felt it. Just a twinge, a feeling that something was wrong. He turned around sharply, and time seemed to stop as his eyes focused on Flint's wand, aiming for Fred. A piercing cry broke through his lips, and he was rolling to the ground, his wand pointed at Flint, and his mouth forming the only spell he could think of._

"_Expelliarmus" he shouted, and he saw Fred duck just as the force of Harry's spell threw Flint backwards ._

There was a green light, the same green light Harry had dreamed about for almost twenty years, and when he could finally focus, both Flint and Fred were lying on the ground.

_His heart skipped a beat as he forced his legs to move to where Fred was, and only when his hands touched the warm skin of Fred's arm, could he breathe properly again. Blue eyes, so unlike Ginny's, met his and Fred smiled shakily, his voice coming in a whisper._

"_Thanks for that, mate."_

_Harry could only nod, for he had just noticed that not so far away from him, Marcus Flint lay dead._

"It was an accident, Parvati, just a silly accident. The spell threw him backwards, and he stumbled upon a curse that was not directed to him." Hermione, the voice of reason, as always, interrupted Harry's musings with her explanation. "You have to believe me."

"That's a lie," Parvati shouted, her pretty face distorted with something that resembled hate. "He killed him. Marcus was a Slytherin, so you killed him!" She was looking at Harry now, her cold, angry eyes fixed on him. "Too bad you can't talk right now," she continued smugly. "Not even to defend yourself."

Ginny gasped, and Parvati looked a bit affronted. "Just a silencing charm, my dear. What, you think I cut out his tongue?"

She grinned as she walked to where Harry stood and traced the curve of his cheek with her slender finger. "No, no. I have other things in mind for Harry. For now, he'll stay tied to that tree." She smiled as her finger now rested against Harry's mouth. "Don't worry, my dear. You'll scream soon enough."

"You are insane," Ginny said slowly, her voice trembling a little.

"Oh, yes, I am. But wouldn't you be too, Ginny? How would you feel if you were told that your boyfriend was left to die, by people you once considered friends. And, for what? To save the life of a man who would die a mere months later. It was all a waste."

"It wasn't!" It was Ron who spoke now, his eyes alight. "It wasn't a waste. It gave us time."

"Time I could have had! Every second that Fred Weasley lived after that moment, every second was mine. I deserved those seconds! I wanted those seconds. And, now …I'm going to make sure that you pay for those seconds."

The smile was real this time, slow and full of pain. "You've had all the time in the world to think of a strategy, overpower me…and yet you chose to stand here, and try to convince me. Funny how you thought that would work. Funny how I knew you'd do that. Stupid Gryffindors"

She raised her wand, and Harry gulped as he noticed it was pointed at him. So, this was the end? He craned his head, trying to look Ginny in the eyes, needing to see her for one last time if he was going to die.

But then Parvati was in the floor, Ginny on top, and they rolled over once. When had Ginny got so close to her, he wondered? Ron and Hermione were racing to where Harry was tied, and yet they seemed so far away. Without meaning to, he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, too much had happened.

Ron and Hermione were once again frozen to the spot, equal expressions of terror on her face as Parvati pointed her wand at Ginny.

A whirlwind of emotions stormed through him, and he couldn't even fight against them. He felt himself go cold at once, and he felt despair settle on him like a heavy blanket. This was it …this was the lesson Parvati wanted to teach him. This was the end.

How very wrong he was. Parvati's voice was loud and ringing in his ears, and he felt himself open his mouth, tried to shout, and yet no sound came out. Ginny was lying in a helpless bundle on the floor, and yet no green light had appeared, and then he heard Parvati mutter another curse, and he couldn't hear her anymore, because all he could hear was his own voice, screaming so loud that he thought they could hear him at Hogwarts.

"GIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYYYY!"

His throat ached, and yet she was still lying there, her brown eyes focused on him. "What did you do to her?" he screamed, oblivious to Ron and Hermione. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?

"Oh, don't worry, Harry," her mocking voice answered as she focused her wand on him. "She's pretty much alive …for now. But I'm afraid you didn't teach her very well, she's awfully slow with her wand." And yet Harry knew she was wrong. Ginny was one of the best he'd ever seen. Parvati had just been …quicker, somehow.

"I could have killed her right away, of course, but that would have ruined my plans. You see, when I heard what had happened to my dear Marcus, all I wanted to do was kill you. But then, I was counseled by someone who wanted you dead just as much as me. He suggested that just killing you wouldn't be enough …I had to make you suffer."

"Malfoy?" Ron's voice was hoarse and Hermione gasped as her hand linked with his.

"Of course not, I wouldn't have asked him for advice if my life depended on it. He was always rude to Marcus, making petty comments about our relationship. It was Crabbe, who helped me, Crabbe who counseled me, Crabbe who showed me that the best way to make you suffer …would be by taking away everything you held dear."

"But he was the one that killed Flint!" Ron screamed. "His curse was the one that hit him by accident! I should know, the curse was meant for me!"

Harry swallowed, and yet Parvati didn't seem perturbed by the information. In fact, she looked positively calm as she moved to point her wand at Ron and Hermione.

"I've had enough of the lies, Ron. They make no difference to me, not now."

"_Impedimenta!"_ Ron was yelling before Harry could figure out how the wand had flown to his hand so quickly, but Parvati was quicker once again, and just as she ducked Ron's curse, a terrible, icy voice rang out.

"_Imperio!"_

And beside Ron, Hermione went stiff.

"I suggest you lower your wand now, Ron. Unless, of course, you would like to see your wife kill herself …and your unborn child." The mocking tone was back as she saw Ron slowly lower his wand. "Good reflexes. Not good enough, of course, but still I applaud you." She trained her eyes on Hermione before whispering, "I've waited too long, worked too hard, for you to take this away from me."

"Hermione, would you be so kind as to kill your husband, now?" she asked, her voice laced with false sweetness, as if she were merely asking for a cup of tea.

"Oh, and dear…" She paused and stared at Harry's terrified face before continuing. "Do make it slow, will you? I'm sure you can find the right spell in that pretty little head of yours, and besides, we want Harry to enjoy the show."

And she moved away, leaving Harry to stare at his best friend pointing her wand at her husband!

**To be continued …**

_A/N: Yes, yes, cliffie, I know. And, I'm taking a day off, just so you all know. Why? Because Kat did. :p A thousand thanks to Carrie, for the lovely poem, and for planning this out with me. But this one is dedicated to …Anne, because she is like …the Yoda to my Obi-Wan, and she not only gave me the final piece of the puzzle this story had become, she is also a truly wonderful friend. _

_PS – Don't worry, Stephen. You are still Qui-Gon. _


	12. Letting go

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 12/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_Each time I look into your eyes  
I fall in love all over again  
I want to stay here with you forever,  
Let the world spin without me  
Wrapped up in your arms, I'm like a young bird just let free  
Wanting to fly so badly  
But I don't have strong enough wings.  
Let sorrow forever hold me  
In its cold, haunting embrace  
Memories of you bring tears to my eyes  
And I realize  
I can no longer dream._

The fake Mad-Eye Moody, fourth year.

That had been the first, and only other time that Hermione had felt like this, her perception diminished to the point where she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings and the people watching her. She felt lightheaded and carefree, and yet she couldn't understand why she felt like that. It was a wonderful sensation, but her mind resisted it, a shrill voice in the back of her head that sounded like her conscience repeating in a terribly annoying tone that there was something not right about what was happening.

_Kill your husband? Why would you want to do that_, the voice was asking her, even as she raised her wand and pointed straight ahead, to a handsome face framed by red hair. _Yes, he might be annoying sometimes, but I don't really think that's a good idea_, the voice continued as she started to notice the little things about that handsome face, the freckles splattered across his nose in a foolish pattern, the play of his thin lips, so much in contrast with the fullness of his face, the tears that were now clouding the deep brown eyes. She felt as if she could drown in those eyes if she let herself.

He did not move, not even as she raised her wand to point straight at him, and she could clearly see the love he felt for her written in his features.

_I love him_, the voice continued, and she could feel her awareness returning, as the empty feeling in her head disappeared. There was Harry, tied to a tree, his trembling voice pleading with her to stop, Ginny lying on the ground, unmoving, and in front of her there was Ron standing up tall, his eyes unwavering, an unmistakable expression of trust in his face.

She remembered exactly what was happening, and what she was about to do.

Her wand still pointed at Ron, she urged her brain to come up with some kind of a plan to turn this into an advantage. Time was running out on her, and she took a deep breath as the first inklings of a plan swam into her subconscious. Hanging onto them, she stared at Ron, willing him to understand, and it was just mere seconds before she saw a glimpse of recognition in his eyes.

"_Finite Incantatem,"_ she said, her wand still trained at Ron, but he ducked just as she expected him to, and the spell hit Ginny full on as Hermione trained her wand on Parvati, soon to be joined by the two Weasleys, as they found their footing.

"This is the end, Parvati," Hermione said softly, a touch of gentleness on her features as if in remembrance of their shared past. But Parvati didn't seem to be listening, for her eyes were glassy, and she was looking behind Hermione, to the place where she had stood mere seconds before.

"How did you do that?" she asked, her voice rising in anger. "The curse was right, I know it was! I said _Imperio_! And, I meant it! You have to mean it for it to work, and I meant it!" Her features distorted by anger, it was hard to see in the wreck of a woman she had become the girl she had once been. "I MEANT IT! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU ALL!"

"No, you don't." Ginny's warm voice seemed to envelop everything, as if her voice alone could cast aside the chillness of the night, and Parvati looked at her as a starving man would look upon a glass of water. As if she held all the answers. For a moment, it almost seemed like she did. "You are in pain. And, sometimes it seems like the pain is so big it encompasses everything. It's not merely heartache, it's almost physical."

She started walking, her eyes focused on Parvati as she got closer to her, her voice never wavering. "But, revenge is not the answer. You have to let yourself feel. The pain, and the anger, and the guilt …they can never go away if you don't let yourself feel them."

Without hesitation Ginny's hand grabbed Parvati's wand and threw it to Hermione, her voice almost hypnotic as her other hand came to rest on Parvati's shoulder. "And, when you let yourself feel …you'll begin to understand, that life isn't over, even if a part of your heart is gone. Life isn't over, because that part of your heart wouldn't want you to die, just because it was gone."

Both hands were on Parvati's shoulders now, and their eyes locked as Parvati fought against the tears that were slowly, but surely, starting to make their way across her cheeks. "He wouldn't want you to stop living."

"What is the point of living?" she asked brokenly, her features a mask of pain where traces of the girl she once was were finally recognizable, once again. "When life is gone?"

There were no stopping the tears that ran down her cheeks anymore, and it didn't seem like she was trying. Her shoulders were now heaving as she stared at Ginny and whispered the last words Hermione would ever hear her utter. "I'm all alone now."

And then the sobs overcame her, and she fell down to the ground, dragging Ginny with her as three pairs of eyes looked down in sorrow.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, the first words he had been able to utter since he had first understood Hermione's plan. It was like his throat had closed, and now it opened freely so he could say the words he had wanted to say for a long time, to the only person who really needed to hear them. "I know it doesn't mean much right now, but I'm sorry."

The sobs continued, and she did not speak a word. From that day on, for the rest of her days to come, she would never speak another word.

But she was free to mourn, and as Hermione stepped back to untie Harry, she contemplated that was, after all, the only gift they could give her. And about them …well, they still needed some mending, but they were whole again.

Every second had passed in a blurry mist since Parvati had been carried to St. Mungo's, time stretching before her, ominous and pressing, as her own words rang in her ears. It had been easier to deal with everything when it had just been the five of them in a remote field, but when Aurors and Healers started to arrive, Ginny felt herself retreating, putting up those ever-present shields around her heart, shields that could not prevent her from feeling, but could prevent others from seeing the inner workings of her heart.

And, now, a full day later, she wasn't any closer to figuring out what she wanted than she had been twenty-four hours ago when she had stared into Harry's green eyes and declared that she was going home to curl up in bed until she could make sense of it all. He had been taken to St. Mungo's for observation, that much she did know, but he was probably already at home, and she was still hiding here in her room, behaving in a very un-Gryffindor-like manner.

Looking back, there were so many things that were clearer now, and yet the outcome of this story, of her story, still seemed very much in doubt. Yes, Harry loved her. She'd had her doubts about that, spent countless sleepless nights starting at the stars as she analyzed his every move…and she had never felt as sure as she felt now. He loved her.

But the nagging feeling that sometimes love wasn't enough wouldn't leave her. What if Harry ran away from her two years from now because there was a new threat? Could she really handle that, could she handle having her heart broken by him again? Was she ready to take the chance that it might happen?

She would have loved to say she was, and go find Harry, but the truth was, she wasn't. No red-haired children appeared in her future.

Not for the first time, she truly envied what Ron and Hermione had, that pure love born out of friendship and caring. They fought constantly, and yet she had never once felt that those fights would lead to a breakup. Silly little fights, they seemed to exist solely for the purpose of entertaining themselves, and others. The love they had, the trust they shared, ran too deep for anything to break them apart.

She and Harry, on the other hand …well, they had love. Maybe they had too much of it, and too little of everything else. And there was no getting over that.

Letting her head rest against her pillow, Ginny felt hot tears spill from her eyes at the realization that her decision could condemn both Harry and her to a miserable life. For a Gryffindor, who prided herself on being brave, letting fear win was like a betrayal. And yet she could not find it within herself to make the leap needed to fall into his arms once again.

But, life always had a way of evening things out, it seemed, and what Ginny could not find within herself, someone else helped her find.

"Ginny?"

And that someone was right outside her door, just when Ginny needed her most.

"Is it okay if I come in?" a timid voice asked, and Ginny didn't even try to hide her tears as she recognized Angelina's soft tones. Fred might have picked Angelina as his wife, making her a part of the family, but Ginny often thought that she would have picked Angelina for a big sister any time, now that she'd got to know her better. Together they had laughed and cried as they remembered Fred, and even though her relationship with the older woman couldn't really be compared to the kinship she felt to Hermione, Angelina was as much a sister to her as Hermione was.

"Of course you can come in. You know my door is never closed for you," Ginny answered softly, mentally scolding herself for worrying about her petty little problems when Angelina was left to face life alone. If anyone deserved to mope, it was she.

"I'm not here to talk about Fred, Ginny," she started softly as she took a seat beside Ginny in the small bed. "And I hope you'll forgive me for taking the liberty of coming here to meddle in something that is not my business. But I …you've all been here for me, and helped me so very much, and I feel very proud to be considered a part of the family…"

"You are," Ginny reassured her.

Angelina smiled, her right hand fidgeting with the pillow that not so long ago absorbed Ginny's tears as she continued. "I hope you don't find it terribly presumptuous of me, but I talked to Hermione earlier, about …about what happened last night. And I reckoned you could use some sisterly advice."

Coming closer, Angelina grasped Ginny's right hand in hers and squeezed tightly before talking again. "When the war first started, your brother and I were already an item. Maybe it was the intensity of the situation we were in, maybe we just needed an excuse …but things got pretty serious right away. We talked about marriage, even joked about making the bridesmaids wear these hideous pink dresses…"

A sad smile crossed Angelina's face briefly. "But once we were out there, fighting … all that was pushed to the side. It was like …it was merely secondary. How could we think about something like marriage when every day we were out there risking our lives? How could we make that kind of commitment?"

"We were scared. Scared of what the future could bring if one of us died. And so we never mentioned marriage again, almost as if it had never been in our plans."

A soft tear trickled along Ginny's cheek as she listened to Angelina's warm voice, a painful weight in her chest as she waited for what she knew was coming next.

"And then came that awful night when Harry saved Fred's life. And as I held onto him that night, we kind of realized ….it was all worth it. Every second we could spend together was worth taking the chance. The outcome wasn't important …because in that moment, we had each other."

Slowly, that awful tightness in her chest began to disappear, as if Angelina's words had brought a great revelation upon Ginny. She kept her eyes fixed on the other woman as she continued, drinking in her every word as if she could say nothing wrong.

"I know it's hard, and I know you're hurting, Ginny, but believe me when I say that Fred wouldn't have wanted to be the reason why laughter disappeared from your life. If nothing else, he would want to be the reason you carry laughter with you."

"Ange …"

"I think it's time to move on, Ginny. It's terribly frightening at first, but it's all worth it at the end."

"Even if …" she had to ask.

"Yes." The controlled features were breaking as a tear made its way across Angelina's face, but she wiped it away quickly, and smiled at Ginny again before asking. "So, why are you still standing here? I believe there's someone you have to go and find."

And with a grateful smile to Angelina, Ginny was gone.

The curtains were open, the chilly air filtering through them as Ginny Apparated into Harry's flat undetected. Looking around, she smiled as she noted the unmistakable traces of a bachelor in the room, the messy order, the badly-arranged kitchen appliances and the can of Madame Matilda's Chicken Soup lying in the corner.

There were some other things, of course, things that were uniquely Harry, the Firebolt that she recognized in the corner of the room, the miniature replica of the Gryffindor Quidditch team she had made for him as a birthday present in sixth year, and the glasses, the same old and round glasses he'd always worn, lying on the coffee table.

And there, on the sofa, lay the rumpled and disheveled-looking figure of Harry Potter, the boy she had loved for most of her life. He looked pale and tired, his messy hair completely covering his famous scar, making him look like any other boy.

Like nothing special.

But he was special to her, she reasoned as she pulled her cloak tighter against her. The boy who lived. Once upon a time, he had told her that he couldn't live without her, and Ginny had almost dared him to try.

She didn't want him to try anymore. She was deathly afraid this wasn't the right thing, and that it would turn out wrong. It had taken a near-death experience for Harry to let go of his selfless act and a few well-chosen words for her to let go of her fears, but now, she was ready for them to lead the life they deserved to lead.

Together.

And with that final thought she sat down across him, her soft lips grazing his cheek as she waited for the moment when he would wake up, and their life could start.

_**The End!**_

_A/N: Well, kind of …I can't very well leave it like that, so I'll be a nice girl and give you all a very fluffy epilogue. The hard part is over, after all. Also, this is where I say thank you, to all of you. I don't have to mention names, for you know who you are. Also, I want to thank all of you for reading, and reviewing. I can't beging to explain how a review makes an author feel, and I thank you for that. :)  
_


	13. Epilogue

**Story title: Muileach **

**Part 13/13**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, I really do. But I'm just a romantic a heart who happens to love HP. No infringement is intended, and I am not making any money out of this. **

* * *

_I count no more my wasted tears;  
They left no echo of their fall;  
I mourn no more my lonesome years;  
This blessed hour atones for all.  
I fear not all that Time or Fate  
May bring to burden heart or brow,—  
Strong in the love that came so late,  
Our souls shall keep it always now!_

_Elizabeth Akers Allen_

The bright morning sun was shining down on The Burrow as the smiling face of Molly Weasley looked out into the garden. Charlie and Bill were setting up the table while Ron finished de-gnoming. Biting back a comment about laziness, she focused on the mess that was her kitchen, as the girls prowled around trying to be helpful.

"Angelina, dear …make sure the pieces are chopped small enough, and Ginny, could you keep an eye on this while I go have a talk with your brothers?" Ginny soon took her place, and Molly shared a mischievous smile with the three young women in the kitchen before heading outside.

It was going to be a good day, she reasoned, as she came close enough to tug at Bill's ridiculously long hair. She'd hated the long hair for so long, completely horrified that a son of hers could choose this style, but she had to admit she'd grown fond of it with time. It was just very …Bill. Now, the boots, those she could do without.

"Would one of you care to tell me why my two older sons are both setting up the table while poor Ron is de-gnoming the garden by himself?" she asked, trying very hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. Poor Ron, he always ended up with the heavy work.

"Well, ickle Ronniekins lost a bet with us, Mum," Charlie said as he rewarded her with one of those quick grins that would turn any sensible girl into a puddle of mud. "So, he gets the gnomes. A fair trade, if you ask me. We could have come up with something worse."

"You are all right, aren't you little brother?" Bill called out to Ron, and even though Ron didn't turn around to answer, Molly knew him well enough to know that he wasn't really angry at his brothers, though he was trying his best to pretend he was.

"Very well, you can carry on then," she said softly. "But once you two finish setting up the table you are to go help Ron. I want this ready before anyone arrives," she said sternly as she turned back to the house. "Oh, and Charlie…" She turned around and regarded the tanned face of her son. "I'm glad you invited someone. I want to see all my kids married, happy and giving me lots of grandchildren soon," she finished cheekily.

"Mum!" Charlie protested, his face matching his hair in color. "We're just friends!"

"Well, you'd better stop being friends with her and start on the grandchildren soon, dear. It's not like you're getting any younger. And don't you dare laugh, William Weasley." She turned to her eldest son and frowned. "My two oldest sons …I expected you to have at least a couple of kids by now. And to think Ron is the one giving me my first grandchild. Honestly …"

And with those words she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the two older Weasleys looking at each other in puzzlement while somewhere in the background Ron smiled with glee.

"Harry!"

Ginny's arms wrapped themselves around his neck as soon as he had stepped over the threshold and he held onto her tightly, still reveling in the wonderful feeling of being with her. A glowing smile matched his, and when their lips met in greeting, there was no longer any hesitation, just a sense of rightness that he never thought he'd feel again.

He was home. Here, in The Burrow, and in Ginny's arms …there was happiness and life. He needed nothing else.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered against his ear, her soft breath sending chills down his spine. "I missed you."

He smiled indulgently. "You just saw me yesterday, Ginny," he reminded her softly.

"So? I still missed you" was her response as soft lips met his once again, and there was nothing more to say.

"Ahem!" They broke apart sheepishly to come face to face with Percy. "I think you'd better take this outside. Everyone is out there, and even if I'm pretty sure Penelope can handle Mum's babbling and the not so subtle comments about wanting grandchildren, I'm not sure Bill and Charlie's dates are faring that well. You'll provide much needed distraction, Harry."

"Dates?" asked Harry as he and Ginny moved to the window where he could stare into the garden, and he could clearly spot the so-called 'dates', two very scared-looking girls, one blonde, the other, amazingly enough, a redhead, sitting alongside Molly Weasley, who seemed to be in the middle of a rather embarrassing story, judging by the look in Bill's face.

"Yes, dates. The one on the right is Margot, Bill's date. She works at St. Mungo's. I don't really know how they met, but apparently it had something to do with a pub and a bottle of Firewhisky. I thought it better not to ask." She giggled as she pointed to the other girl. "And the other one is Kat, Charlie's date. Not at all what I would have expected of Charlie, actually. Pretty quiet girl. But, she works with him, so there must be some fire inside her, no pun intended."

Harry grinned as he pointed to a brown-haired girl in the corner. "What about her?" he asked. "She doesn't seem as uncomfortable as the other two."

"Now, this is where it gets interesting. That's Carrie, she's Angelina's friend. She hasn't attracted that much harassment, considering she's not coming here as one of my brother's dates. Now, I don't know what the whole story is, but I think Angelina is trying to set her up with George. And, from the looks of it, it's working," she said as she pointed towards the corner of the room where the girl was laughing cheerfully at whatever George had just said.

Harry grinned, his face still focused on the scene outside. "So, Miss. Weasley, any more family gossip you care to dish out?"

She smiled whimsically, resting her head on his chest. "I don't know, everything seems …just right, you know? Even – even without Fred here. It kind of feels like he's looking down on us, taking care of his family."

"He is." Harry smiled softly. "He'd be bored in heaven if he wasn't allowed to look down on us, especially in moments like this."

"Yes, I think you're right." She sighed and took hold of his hand. "Come on, let's go rescue those poor girls. Once Mum sees you, she'll forget all about them."

"Wait," Harry's hand held onto her, and he brought her hand to his, placing a butterfly kiss on her palm. "There's something I want to ask you first."

"What's that?" she asked, oblivious to the seriousness of the moment as she clung to his neck and began placing soft kisses on his neck.

"Ginny," he started as he disentangled her hands from his neck and covered them with his. "I've been a loner, and not by choice, for most of my life. There was always this weight, this burden that I didn't think I could share with anyone, that I didn't think I _should _share with anyone. But then you came into my life, and suddenly I wanted to share everything with you."

His fingers traced the lines of her face as he continued talking, his voice trembling a little every time his fingers touched her face. "I think I've loved you for so long, I can't put my finger on when it was that I started loving you. And I've done some stupid things in the name of that love, because I wanted to protect you from harm, to shield you from the world.

"But I've realized that I can't." The hand that was still holding onto hers was now shaking and Ginny squeezed it tightly, passing a little of her strength to him. "I can't shield you from the world, and I can't keep you safe from harm. All I can do is love you, and hope that's enough."

"It is, Harry," she said, bravely trying to hold onto the tears that were threatening to fall. She'd shed tears during the darkest and most difficult times of her life, and she refused to let this moment with Harry be tainted by tears, even if they were happy tears.

"Now, I said I had something to ask you, and I do. Ginny, we've come a long way together already, and I would love for us to go on being together, forever."

"Harry?" she asked breathlessly, almost afraid to hope.

"Now, I know this is kind of sudden, considering we only got back together a short time ago, but I love you, and I know this is what I want."

Hands still trembling, he went down on one knee in front of Ginny, just as she'd always dream he would do, and asked breathlessly, "Ginny, will you marry me?"

The tears she'd been trying to hold back sprang from her eyes without her permission as she nodded and was hoisted up in Harry's strong arms, all at the same time. Their lips found each other and they kissed deeply, as if with that kiss they were sealing a love that would keep them together for the rest of their lives.

Then Ginny was whispering "yes, yes, yes" in Harry's ear, and he was twirling her around, and for a moment, the world was forgotten. Until Ginny saw the small box lying on the floor.

"Oh, Harry," she said as she picked it up and once she opened it, she couldn't say anything else. There rested the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen, two hands holding a little heart, with a diamond resting in the middle. She didn't know what it meant, couldn't even conceive it, and yet she couldn't help but stare at it and wonder if this was all a dream.

"It's a Claddagh ring. The hands represent friendship, the crown represents loyalty... and the heart... Well, you know... Wear it with the heart pointing towards you. It means you belong to somebody. Like this," Harry said softly, his voice infinitely more composed than before, but still trembling a little as he placed the ring on Ginny's finger.

"Harry," she whispered, and he looked up at her with a smile.

"You don't need to say anything. Come on; let's go show your mum. I'll bet she's been waiting for this, and if we don't interrupt soon your brothers' love lives won't survive long enough for them to even consider kids."

She grinned and clasped her left hand with Harry's as they went out into the sunny afternoon, to her family.

There were hugs and congratulations, and even a couple of comments about grandchildren that made all the non-Weasleys blush. But things seemed fine, and as Harry stared at Arthur and Molly Weasley holding hands, and all the smiling faces around him, Ron and Hermione, together like always, Bill and Charlie both with dates and even George with a smile on his face, Harry let himself look at Ginny, and grin.

This was life. It may not be perfect, but it was still worth it.

_The End_

_A/N: Haha! I did it! It's done. No more of this! Ten points to whoever can place the Buffy quote in there. :p_

_This one is for Anne, for betaing, and for the people I still call friends. I don't have to give names. hugs A __huge THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. There was a time when, if it weren't for all of you, I wouldn't have found it within myself to keep going. So, thank you. This is all for you. _


End file.
